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JOSEPH E. KING 




Glass Ltl^f.ig 

Book- /1^57!^<3 

Copyright N° 



COPYRIGHT CEPOSW. 



A REMINISCENT BOOK 



BY 

JOSEPH E. KING, D.D. 




DR. JOSEPH E. KING 



A REMINISCENT BOOK 



BY L 

JOSEPH EyilNG, D.D. 

'J 



Published by 
THE ALUMNI ASSOCIATION 

OF FORT EDWARD INSTITUTE 

Dr. James S. Coolby, Sec, HbmpstbadJ N, Y, 

1915 



vVf^ 



Copyright, 1915, by 

Joseph King Van Denburg 

New York City 



FEB 18 1915 



the rumfobd press 

CONCORD, N. H. 

©CI,.A393671 



FOREWORD 

This volume is to be frankly autobiographical. It is to 
tell the story of the life of a teacher to whom has been ac- 
corded unfailing good-health as well as length of days: 
his birth and boyhood; the awakening, in his early youth, 
of a thirst for higher education; his struggles to prepare 
for college and how he won his way; incidents in his col- 
lege life — the election to Psi Upsilon and Phi Beta Kappa, 
his appreciation of college instructors, the semi-centen- 
nial of his class; his six winter schools as sturdy prepara- 
tion for sixty-three years of work in higher education; the 
activities of his manhood, as teacher, lecturer, and 
preacher; school discipline, administrative problems, epi- 
sodes of which he was magna pars, the literary societies, 
athletics; vacation tours at home and abroad; other busi- 
ness activities and responsibilities; the Civil War; the 
alumni association; once again the University convoca- 
tions that he enjoyed; eminent people he has met, some 
great orators he has heard; a summary of results, closing 
with a glance at the wondrous epoch of his eighty-nine 
years, of progress in America and the world. 

This reminiscent book, to the making of which he has 
found pleasure in devoting his enforced leisure, asking 
indulgence for its regrettable omissions, he submits to the 
kind consideration of his former pupils, for all of whom 
he cherishes only kindly memories. 

With health and leisure blest, why not rehearse 
In sober prose, at times in lighter verse. 
The veteran teacher's life, boy, man, and sage. 
The story in the making, page by page.^ 



CONTENTS 

CHAP. PAGE 

I Boyhood 1 

The Parsonage 1 

Early Farm Life 1 

Clerkships 2 

A Typical Westward Tour of 1836 .... 5 

Hobble-de-Hoy Age 6 

Presidential Canvass of '40 7 

Buchanan's Oratory and a Side-Product . . 8 

College Preparation 10 

Giddings 12 

Six Winter Schools 14 

A Year at Poultney 17 

II Gaining an Education 20 

Entering College 20 

A Midnight Swim 21 

How the Bills were Paid 23 

Two of Wesleyan's Presidents: Olin and Cum- 

mings 24 

III The Young Teacher 30 

A Call to his Life Work 30 

Six Years at Newbury 31 

Newbury Revisited 32 

A Strenuous Year at Fort Plain 34 

An Episode at Fort Plain 35 

A Summer Incident 37 

Impressions of Great Men of the Period: Red- 
ding, Durbin, Webster, Kossuth .... 38 



viii CONTENTS 

CHAP. PAGE 

IV Beginnings at Fort Edward 49 

Fort Edward Collegiate Institute .... 49 

Institute Opens 49 

Organization 50 

Essentials for Every Student 51 

Discipline 52 

Recreation made Popular 56 

Mutiny 58 

Literary Societies 59 

Athletics 60 

An Anniversary Sermon 60 

Co-Education 62 

A Typical Re-Union 63 

V A Wonderful Decade 65 

Horace Greeley 65 

Henry Ward Beecher 67 

The Civil War 70 

Visits to the Front, '61, '62 70 

A Sonnet to Abraham Lincoln 73 

VI Conference Experiences 74 

General Conference of 1856 74 

A Broken Axle 75 

General Conference of 1864 .77 

Episode of 1864 78 

General Conference of 1868 80 

The Annual Conferences 81 

VII A Vacation Abroad (1867) 86 

July 4 Celebration 86 

Spurgeon and the Tabernacle 90 

Bunyan's Grace 91 

Paris: Emperor's Fete 91 



CONTENTS ix 

CHAP. PAGE 

VIII Some Men that Impressed Me 93 

Horatio Seymour 93 

Bishop Simpson 95 

John B. Gough 96 

Samuel J. Tilden 98 

At Washington 99 

Dean, Harrison, Pierce, Grant, Roosevelt. 

IX Minor Morals 105 

A Rhyming Lecture on Manners 

Delivered annually at Fort Edward Institute 
through many Decades. 

X Later Days at Fort Edward 127 

The Conflagration of 1877 127 

The Enforced Recess 127 

The New Institute 129 

Results of Coeducational Period 130 

Alumni Association . . • 130 

The New Departure 132 

The Second Conflagration 133 

XI Outside Interests 135 

Round Lake Institute . 135 

Incidental Business Activities 135 

University Convocations 136 

Brothers of '47 141 

Eightieth Milestone 146 

Birthday Lines 147 

XII My Epochs 148 

Poem recited from Memory on the Occasion of 
the Alumni Association Banquet in New York 
City, May, 1913. 



Joseph Elijah King was born at Laurens, Otsego 
County, New York, November 30, 1823, son of Rev. 
EHjah King and Katherine Olmstead King. His ances- 
tors were typical New Englanders, their ancestors emi- 
grants from Great Britain. On the side of both father 
and mother, his grandsires were patriotic Americans and 
soldiers of the American Revolution, serving under 
George Washington. Dr. King died at Fort Edward, 
N. Y., June 3d, 1913, in the ninetieth year of his age. 



A REMINISCENT BOOK 

CHAPTER I 
BOYHOOD 

The Parsonage 

Our birth and boyhood, Hfe's initial stage, 

Transpired within a humble parsonage. 

Not joyless, sure, though luxuries were scant. 

Was the pious house of the itinerant. 

Since fixed by Fate, or Heaven's peculiar bounty. 

At rural Laurens in Otsego county. 

A godly man of dignity and force, 

He loved his calling, and — a handsome horse. 

His ample "circuit" had six preaching places, 

Their steeples were his only steeple-chases. 

To reach them all his steed must show his paces. 

The doughty Kjiight, thus galloped o'er the land. 

Ablaze with zeal to do his Lord's command. 

Early Farm Life 

Through broken health and love of country life. 

The whilom parson bought, to please his wife, 

A goodly farm of upland, vale and hill. 

With garden, meadow and its rippling rill. 

There in this vestibule of Paradise, 

Four sturdy boys of us, grew strong and wise. 

The oaken bucket dripping from the well, 

What joys it brought, no mortal tongue could tell; 

Each tree, and shrub, and weed we called by name; 

The frisky squirrel could we cage and tame; 

Each bird and bug and every creeping thing; 

The bees — aha! we knew them by their sting. 

Each foot, both length and breadth, we knew the farm. 



2 A REMINISCENT BOOK 

Its orchard, woodland and far pasture lots. 

Its sugar maples' quite peculiar charm. 

Its kindling wood to split with pesky knots. 

The corn to hoe, and the festive potato, 

These were the tasks forever still recurring; 

But there were jolly offsets well we know, 

Nor lack of incidents the spirit stirring. 

We knew the thrill precocious tyros feel 

To see it whirl our home-made water wheel. 

A hay-mow frolic, swarming of the bees. 

The ripening melons, King sweets, water cores; 

Colt breaking, nutting, ah, what joys were these, 

Could we but dodge the milking and the chores. 

How could we view the farmer's lot with scorn, 

When all our bones were made of Indian corn.^^ 

Two sisters — these — and sisters of our neighbors, 

Gave spice to sport, distraction to our labors. 

Long winter nights at Christmas and Thanksgiving, 

They served, no doubt, to render life worth living; 

In fact, to be, or do our best we found 

'Twas opportune to have some girls around. 

Clerkships 

Came discontent, we blush e'en now to own it. 
The dear old farm, had we so soon outgrown it? 
No longer might its humdrum routine teach us; 
New voices from a wider world now reach us. 
Up ! get ye forth ! this humble, homely mansion 
Is far too small a nest for due expansion. 

And so for gold the farm was sold, its price 

Invested in precarious merchandise. 

A feverish time, three years or more. 

Our King-dom camped about a country store. 

The price had to be paid in silver dollars as "legal 
tender," else the sale would have been cancelled at the 



BOYHOOD 3 

wish of our mother. Then followed a rapid succession 
of several homes for the family, all in Otsego County. 

At Schenevus we had a store, and I began my clerk- 
ship education at the age of ten. I could sell coffee, 
sugar, tea, saleratus, raisins (taking my toll of these un- 
doubtedly), could measure and cut off sheetings and 
calico like an expert. 

There six of us children had the measles, which I had 
caught while attending, with my father, the funeral of a 
farmer's little son. I still remember the text used, "But 
the gift of God is eternal life." As we were happily con- 
valescent, all playing together on the floor, where a big 
buffalo robe had been spread, my brother Benjamin, 
sportively hurling a heavy tin pill box, happened to break 
the mirror. Then was the first time I saw my mother 
cry; the mirror had been the wedding gift of her mother. 

Next our home and "store" were at Milford Centre. 
There I sold candy, developing a lively traffic, and had 
part in the fun of making it from molasses. The district 
school was delightful, and to this day is vividly remem- 
bered for its lively sports. The "whooping cough," in 
which all six of us were graduated, was an interesting 
episode. 

Next our home and store were established on a larger 
scale at Oneonta. Now, at twelve or thirteen years of 
age, I soon knew the price and cost of everything, could 
make entries on the books in good order, and knew enough 
of genuine money not to accept forged or bankrupt cur- 
rency. When not in the village school, the store was my 
delight. Whatever the asperities of that period, they 
were softened by some lively exercises that I took by 
stealth at a fine swimming hole in the creek. One of my 



4 A REMINISCENT BOOK 

own age was my constant companion, a clean-minded 
boy. A phenomenal depth of snow in the winter of 1836, 
blockading the roads for a week, and then ploughed 
through by long strings of ox-teams, was a joy to young 
American lads never to be forgotten. 

The store, at last, loaded down with accounts that could 
not be collected, went into voluntary bankruptcy, and 
was sold out at auction. During this three-day sale, I 
had evinced such alacrity in giving information and in 
keeping the record of the sales that an Albany wholesale 
merchant took note of so promising a young salesman and 
engaged my services for his store. For four months in 
the wholesale and retail drygoods business of a large estab- 
lishment on State Street, Albany, I sold goods behind the 
counter, occasionally delivering packages to some rich 
patron. The merchant made me a member of his family 
and I had access to his fine library, revelling on Sunday 
afternoons in its biographies and its books of fiction, the 
first I had ever seen. 

In April my father came, bringing the query. Would I 
stay and become a merchant, or join the family at home 
who had decided to "go West".? I did not hesitate a 
moment, after reading my mother's letter. I knew well 
that in the struggle for making a living my heroic mother 
was an important factor. 

She had not failed, the Spartan matron, nay. 

Already eager to resume the fray. 

"The world is wide, my boy, we'll take our stand. 

God willing, we will yet possess the land." 

In quest of fortune, whither should we go? 

Our oracle made answer, "Westward ho!" 

Traveling by railroad as far as Schenectady, I had my 





From an old print 
A TYPICAL WESTWARD TOUR OF 1836 



BOYHOOD 5 

first experience of riding by steam ears — a very primitive 
type, to be sure, but wonderful to the men of that day 
who were the first to harness steam. 

A Typical Westward Tour of 1836 

As yet there was no westbound railroad train 
And so perforce we launched upon the main, — 
To wit: the tranquil waters of the great canal, 
Three days and nights, a jolly carnival. 
Our roomy barge with gorgeous figurehead, 
Had snug contrivances for board and bed. 
Four milk-white steeds the propelling power. 
Their dizzy pace four knots or so per hour. 
A hundred cabin passengers in tow. 
From Utica or far-off Buffalo. 

"Eventful.?" What with wits and wags and dudes. 
Debating statesmen and coquettes and prudes, 
A judge, two fiddlers, and anon a shout 
From fifty throats, "A bridge ahead! Look out!" 
Some mild collisions with resultant shocks, 
The frequent landings and the wondrous locks; 
So as the spice of life rests in variety, 
We found our banquet seasoned to satiety. 
Each of the hundred made be sure one friend 
Who felt regret when came the journey's end. 
A day on Erie, then we safely land. 
Our goal, Girard, and there we took our stand. 

At Girard, Pennsylvania, whither we had been preceded 
by several well-known families from Otsego County, our 
former neighbors, came the next home and store, in which 
I was, nights and Saturdays, salesman, bookkeeper, and 
collector. Here, five days of the week, I enjoyed several 
terms in a select school of really high grade, conducted 
by a college graduate. 



A REMINISCENT BOOK 



HOBBLE-DE-HOY AgE 



And now comes on the secondary stage, 

The callow, the impressionable age, 

The borderland betwixt the man and boy, 

The bashful, enigmatic hobble-de-hoy. 

Ill fares the ambitious, eager, questioning mind, 

If in these pregnant times his guides are blind. 

A morbid thirst for books, what shall he read — 

Soul-problems rend him — what shall be his creed? 

To meet this time of peril Heaven doth send. 

To be his guide, philosopher and friend, 

One dowered with most uncommon common sense, 

Who early gained and held his confidence, 

"Who knew his moods, his doubts, his aspirations, 

Wise when to censure; when give commendations 

Whom he admired and championed 'bove all other, 

This gifted, gracious person was his mother. 

At the age of fifteen I was employed as clerk in a large 
general store in Girard, enjoying for two years its mani- 
fold activities, and developing along effective business 
lines and in practical politics as well, the store being the 
village forum for political debates. At nights I managed 
to have at hand, for a couple of hours, some books on 
history or biography. 

Meanwhile the family fortunes were becoming pros- 
perous : 

My well-paid clerkship in the village store, 

Kept the gaunt wolf from prowling at the door. 

The father's health, too frail for constant preaching. 

He and our elder sister took to teaching. 

Alert and hopeful, we omit no chances 

To ameliorate the family finances. 

Six pairs of roving feet — mother love the tether, 

Hard times despite — that held us still together. 



BOYHOOD 7 

Not one strayed forth from the parental nest, 

Till armor tried and proof protects each breast. 

A late arrival, straight as we deemed from heaven 

Joined the procession, and we then were seven. 

James promised well. We early learned to praise him. 

And wonder not it took four states to raise him. 

Presidential Canvass of '40 

A presidential canvass came — my first — 

And, in its mighty throes the fetters burst 

From off my bashful youth, and I began 

Thenceforth in soul to feel myself a man. 

Both party platforms I had learned by rote. 

Five years must pass before my maiden vote. 

I could debate on measures, men and laws, 

A champion of the Democratic cause. 

With scorn I viewed the grotesque, motley rigs, 

Coon-caps, log cabins of the blatant Whigs. 

As tramped they noisily the country through 

With jeering songs of "Tippecanoe and Tyler too," 

Announcing — oh, the aggravating clan, 

"Our little Van a used up beaten man." 

We called our young and brave battalion out. 

Fierce and defiant, answering shout by shout. 

The rival hosts resolved to celebrate 
The Perry victory — September 10th, the date — 
Erie, the appointed place, and there and then. 
Were met two hostile camps, each 20,000 men. 

A score of youngsters we were fain to go. 
Chartered and mounted our own tally-ho; 
Our righteous cause we staunchly would maintain. 
Equipped with valor and a hickory cane. 
No wagon load of loud-lunged men or boys 
Could equal ours, if measured by the noise. 
The stress and strain of the portentous day. 
Filled many a patriot's heart with dark dismay. 



8 A REMINISCENT BOOK 

A single pistol shot, all understood, 

Might drench the fields with fratricidal blood. 

This sense of danger sobered the vast throng; 

The only weapons used — debate, huzza and song, 

But in that dread and awful gala day, 

'Twas said some raven locks were changed to gray. 

And beardless youths became stern- visaged men. 

Doomed never to be sportive boys again. 

On the broadside of our big tally-ho 

As large as life was painted our motto. 

Words Perry wrote in his victorious hours, 

"We've met the enemy and they are ours." 

But, when the tell-tale votes were all returned, 

And later, valid tidings had been learned, 

Need for new rendering had arisen, 

"We've met the blasted enemy and we are hisen." 

Even Pennsylvania, sad revolt to see. 

Voted "log cabin" by 343. 

Buchanan's Oratory and a Side-Product 

The orator for the Democrats was James Buchanan, 
of Pennsylvania, then in his forty-ninth year. Educated 
at Dickinson College, sent to the Legislature at twenty- 
two, and to Congress at twenty-nine, then for three years 
Minister to Russia and for two terms United States 
Senator — and no unworthy antagonist for Clay and 
W^ebster — this popular leader was in the early noontime 
of his vigorous life, and ambitious for higher honors. 
All his faculties were aroused into supreme effort by the 
admiring attention of the vast audience, and stimulated 
besides by the occasional reverberations of the music 
and by the cheering, faint but distinct, in the rival camp. 
It is not hard to believe that then and there James Bu- 
chanan made the greatest oratorical effort of his life. 



BOYHOOD 9 

His handsome person, faultlessly appareled, the clear- 
ness of his statements, uttered in a ringing tenor voice, 
his classical but luminous and simple rhetoric, punctuated 
with faultless gestures of the head, the hands and, at times, 
of the whole person, his dignified and • authoritative 
manner, and in his peroration, his fervid and vehement 
earnestness, made an irresistible impression. One boy 
who listened, in that one hour, became a man. 

Despite the eloquence of its admired orator and its 
foremost leader, sixteen years later to be himself elected 
president, rockribbed Pennsylvania, always Democratic 
hitherto, voted log-cabin by 343. But, as the result of 
what I heard and saw and felt and thought on that 
decisive September 10, I solemnly resolved in my aroused 
and wrestling soul, "I must, I can, and I will have a 
college education." 

This humble side-product of his great speech might 
possibly have given Buchanan some little comfort in his 
rather dreary old age. 

Despite our fears the Nation still survived, 

And in its broad extent grew strong and thrived. 

Of this vast change I mused — I saw — I knew 

The controlling factors were exceeding few. 

The ignoramus ever must be led; 

What room for statecraft in his stolid head.^ 

I saw that manly force with thorough education 

Must win the leadership in any generation. 

My ambitious soul beheld a beckoning door 

Through college halls. I had outgrown the store. 

I had not seen, but I would find a college. 

And slake therein my burning thirst for knowledge. 

None shared as yet my counsels or my plan. 

To be at any cost an educated man. 



10 A REMINISCENT BOOK 

I wrote one night, avowing my intent, 
Four foolscap pages full of argument 
To my good parents, winged words of fire, 
Expressing my importunate desire. 
Only for their consent to work my way 
Through college — somewhere, and without delay. 
Made answer they — ^your argument has won, 
You have our full and free consent, our son. 
Go, and God guide you on your chosen way. 
We'll aid you all we can; pray for you day by day. 

The rapture of that hour can I forget.? 
Though three score years have sped, it thrills me yet. 
For love of Rachel did the patriarch of old 
Care naught for summer's heat or winter's cold. 
So I — though not for love's delightful dream, 
Possessed, inspired by my enthralling scheme, 
Laughed at the chance of burning midnight oil, 
Counting a tournament my seven years of toil. 

College Preparation 

At Austinburgh, 'twas fixed, we should begin; 

A thorough Christian school, annex of Oberlin. 

The Giddings-Garfield district centered near it, 

And slavery's threat, those freemen did not fear it. 

With no electives tempting us to stray. 

Our daily rations, Latin, Greek and Algebra. 

Sweet to our taste as honey from the rock. 

We found such morsels as our "hie, haec, hoc." 

The teachers worthy, though unknown to fame, 

Smith, Tenney, Walker, these I needs must name. 

My schoolmates won my heart, each mother's son, 

And daughter too, the candid truth to own. 

How lasting this regard, that you may know, 

There came a test, some twenty years ago. 

Called back when two and forty years were scored 

To meet the veteran remnants round the festive board. 



BOYHOOD 11 

Fourteen I recognized and called by name; 

So in love's ashes lives the immortal flame. 

My favorite tutor, withered now with age, 

I met en route, scarce an ideal sage. 

We talked jocosely, and soon came a hint, 

'Twas he! I knew him by his lovely squint; 

"Walker!" "King!" We felt the old-time charms, 

And rushed like lovers to each other's arms. 

SLATER 

'Mongst all the sons of this good alma mater 
In vain I sought for one, my classmate Slater. 
His saintly form graced not the festive board, 
We saw him not for he was with the Lord. 

If at life's earthly terminus I rise 

To meet with kindred spirits in the skies, 

I'll search, be sure, throughout the realms of bliss. 

To find where this Giles Slater's mansion is. 

'Twas he who rapped upon my door one night 

And entered in, a messenger of light. 

My student lamp nigh spent was burning low 

His pale face beamed with a supernal glow. 

His quivering lip and tearful, loving eyes, 

He faltered, choked as to apologize. 

"I had retired," he said, "but not to sleep; 

In agony of soul, I could but toss and weep. 

I know now what to say, but you'll forgive, 

I must come to you, or I could not live." 

He sobbed aloud, a trembling seized my frame. 

Full well I knew whence this emotion came. 

Upon my shoulder bowing down his head 

"King, won't you give your heart to God.-^" he said. 

I honored those who walked in wisdom's ways. 
For Heaven pre-empted from my cradle days. 
The unbeliever's hope I dared not trust. 
The scoffing skeptic filled me with disgust. 



12 A REMINISCENT BOOK 

And, sometimes, in my secret heart I sighed 

To stand a soldier at my parent's side. 

I did but wait for Heaven's effectual call 

To give up worldly aims, my life, my all. 

It came; I owned the convicting spirit's power. 

And full surrender made in that one sacred hour. 

My soul exultant leaped all hindering bars, 

And filled with love and joy stood pointing to the stars. 

GiDDINGS 

The school at Austinburg was in the Ashtabula Con- 
gressional District, a part of the Western Reserve, peopled 
from New England. Joshua R. Giddings, elected in 
1838, was their Congressman for twenty years. He was 
born in Bradford County, Pa., which had also been 
peopled by Massachusetts and Connecticut Puritans. 
He was a pronounced and militant Abolitionist, able and 
eloquent, with the courage to express his convictions. 
He became a champion of the right of petition to do 
away with slavery in the District of Columbia, and thus 
gave mortal offense to slave-holding members of the 
House. 

Giddings was a formidable giant, six feet one inch in 
height, with shaggy iron gray hair, and a piercing black 
eye, having the mastery of a vigorous Anglo-Saxon 
rhetoric, and a powerful and ringing baritone voice. 
When he spoke he was listened to with great attention 
by the whole House, the members frequently gathering 
around him. He had several affrays on the floor, but 
invariably came out ahead. 

In the summer of 1841 the Creole sailed from Virginia 
to Florida with a cargo of slaves, who got possession of 
the vessel, ran into the British port of Nassau, and, in 



BOYHOOD 13 

accordance with British law, were set free. The Secre- 
tary of State asked, through our Minister, for compen- 
sation. In the debate on this theme Mr. Giddings took 
the ground that slavery was an abridgment of a natural 
right, and had no force beyond the territorial jurisdiction 
that created it; that the United States had no authority 
to hold slaves. 

Great excitement followed in the House. In March, 
1841, on motion of John Miner Botts, of Virginia, a 
resolution of censure was passed by a vote of 125 to 69; 
Mr. Giddings, by means of "the previous question," being 
denied an opportunity to speak in his own defense. He 
at once resigned his seat and appealed to his constituents. 

His address to his constituents at that time it was my 
privilege to hear, as one of a deputation of the students 
of Grand River Institute. It was during the spring term 
in 1842. There were assembled on the village green of 
the town, in the late afternoon, perhaps 400 men, mostly 
farmers from outlying regions. Many of these warmly 
greeted their Congressman, but with an aspect also of 
rigid sternness. The whole district was mad through and 
through. Mr. Giddings was at that time forty-seven 
years of age, in vigorous health, and had his gigantic 
powers in perfect command. Without formal introduc- 
tion his address began. 

His platform as to the rights of a duly elected member 
of the House of Representatives, and the use he had 
sought to make of them as the representative of his liberty- 
loving district, was plainly stated, and then with increasing 
emphasis he went on to vindicate his anti-slavery beliefs 
and aspirations, growing warmer as he advanced, and — 
as he could but see his sympathetic audience profoundly 



14 A REMINISCENT BOOK 

moved — his voice growing in volume, his long arms 
reaching over the people grouped near him, after a 
glowing period, he vociferated, "If you approve of your 
representative in Congress, show it by your votes. " 

I remember thinking, "I know now how the Athenian 
democrats felt when, after an appeal by their great orator, 
they cried out, 'Lead us against Philip. Let us conquer 
or die!'" 

The audience solemnly and silently dispersed. I was 
amazed that they were not more demonstrative. All 
the same those phlegmatic New England constituents 
returned Mr. Giddings by an overwhelming vote, and 
kept him in Congress for sixteen years thereafter. 

Six Winter Schools 

Early in December, 1841, having passed my rather in- 
formal examination, and possessing a big "bull's eye" 
watch, my heart thumping in unison with its heavy tick- 
ing, I started on a three-mile walk to my first school in 
Hartford, Ohio. This was in the Western Reserve, which 
had been peopled from New England. There was one 
family recently from old England. The schoolhouse and 
two or three homes were clapboarded; all the other houses 
were of logs, solidly built, neat and comfortable. 

I found assembled to meet me thirty pupils from eight 
to eighteen years of age; I was to "board around." I 
found myself not unequal to the task of managing my 
school, while the hospitality of those humble homes was 
most enjoyable. They gave me their best, and it was good 
enough for a King. A fad of the time was "phrenology," 
and I was able to soften the asperities of the long winter 
evenings with examining the heads of my hosts, and study- 



BOYHOOD 15 

ing my Greek. One heroic example of disciplining 
promptly a naughty, sturdy sixteen-year-old boy easily 
made me the undisputed master. 

The succeeding winter term I was engaged at an ad- 
vanced salary to continue my services there. A militant 
patron, a veteran of the War of 1812, getting angry at the 
disciplining of his boys, sought vigorously to have me 
"ousted." It was my first fight and I won. Though his 
five children were withdrawn, an accession of seven new 
pupils repaired the damage. 

My third winter school was in New York, in the King's 
Church district, near my Washington County home, and 
was peculiar in the fact that five of the pupils were my 
younger sister and four younger brothers, besides some 
ten or twelve cousins. By standing up straight I managed 
to escape the charge of nepotism. 

While in college, I was fortunate in securing for three 
winters the high school at Glastonbury, Conn., a twelve- 
mile walk from Wesley an University. The sole trustee 
and undisputed magnate of the town was Thaddeus Wells, 
Esq., brother of President Polk's Secretary of the Navy, 
and a cultured Christian gentleman. Some sixty pupils, 
aged from twelve to twenty years, reported for duty. To 
conduct effectively the needed classes in a high school, 
never for a day neglecting the "three R's," was a strenuous 
task; but with complete organization and exact time for 
everything, promptness and order insisted on and secured, 
there was for three winters a flourishing high school in 
Glastonbury. 

At the first recess in the forenoon of the first day, a big 
sixteen-year-old boy, with an audacious younger lad, 
took up the gauge of the young master by coming in after 



16 A REMINISCENT BOOK 

the bell had sounded, some three minutes tardy. Seizing 
the stouter offender by the shoulder and holding him off 
at arm's length for a few seconds, I demanded in a stern 
tone, "What did that bell mean?" "To come in, I 
suppose." "Well, do you think you will obey it here- 
after.^" "Yes, sir." The incident was closed, and there 
was no intentional tardiness thereafter. 

Two weeks later at the close of the noon recess, as I 
was passing into the schoolhouse to resume school work, 
I heard a stout lad ejaculate, with suppressed intensity of 
voice, "Has the old devil come.'^" The boys at play had 
no idea that I had heard the uncomplimentary inquiry. 

The incident put me to thinking, "I must try to cor- 
rect the erroneous judgment of that malcontent pupil. 
I am but twenty years old, I surely do not mean to pose 
as an old devil." "Obed," said I, after looking over his 
slate and discovering the muddle he was making in adding 
his fractions, "How do you get on with fractions?" He 
made a grimace for answer. " Let me show you how easy 
it is to adcl fractions," I said, comprehending what had 
puzzled him. He smiled gratefully. When I said later, 
"I want you to do an errand for me," — inventing the 
errand, he did it faultlessly. I had won him; he was 
ready to fight for "the Teacher." 

"Florence, you whistled through the keyhole at recess. 
Is that a proper thing to do?" She was the daughter of 
the magnate. "I did not know it was forbidden." 
"This, then, hereafter is the rule: whatever can disturb 
the good order of the school is prohibited." There were 
no more covert attacks upon good order. 

I enjoyed a permanent lodging place, while boarding 
during these respective terms with the families of the 



BOYHOOD 17 

patrons. I had my full evenings for study and could 
readily keep up with my college class, with an occasional 
hour for "chess" with a college-bred young lawyer, the 
son of a deacon. There was time also to enjoy not a 
little of the social life in the typical New England village. 
The town meeting, in its primitive characteristics, was 
in evidence two or three times a year. 

My friend and employer, "Esquire" Wells, made me 
absolute monarch of the school, voluntarily increasing 
my salary each new term. In his delicate and princely 
way, in settling for the third and final term, he suggested, 
"This is your Senior year; you may need more funds than 
you have in your pocket. Call on me if you are short." 
Some months later, he was both amused and astounded 
when, calling to remind him of his promise in case of 
"getting short," and he had asked smilingly, "How 
much?" I responded, "I reckon that fourteen dollars 
will cover my needs." The modest loan was paid within 
a couple of months. 

A considerable number of the Glastonbury young peo- 
ple subsequently became my pupils at Fort Edward 
Collegiate Institute. 

A Year at Poultney 

Peck, Newman, Went worth, and Krohn constituted 
an exceptionally strong faculty, and on account of its 
proximity and for economical reasons mainly, I entered 
my Freshman year at Poultney, Vermont. The requisite 
Latin and Greek were easily achieved, with some dis- 
cipline in debate and two weeks of drawing lessons under 
Miss Nettie Wright. One college classmate, Silas W. 
Robbins, was with me at Poultney. 



18 A REMINISCENT BOOK 

At the commencement-day exercises in the Methodist 
Church, on a June morning in 1844, occurred a memorable 
panic and stampede. The church was thronged, galleries 
on the three sides were full, many were standing. It 
was eleven o'clock, the sun was shining, and a student was 
in the midst of his oration. Suddenly we heard a snapping 
sound, as of violently broken timber. A woman in the 
galleries shrieked, "Fire!" and pandemonium was let 
loose. A frenzied rush for the doors began, women were 
lifted from their feet, and some young athletes even 
mounted the compact throng, then stampeded on the 
heads and shoulders of the stifling procession. Mean- 
while Doctor Peck, brandishing his cane, shouted at the 
top of his voice, "Stop! Stop! There is no fire! There 
is nothing the matter. Let the band strike up!" For 
another minute the frenzied, crazy rush continued; the 
din was such that no voice could be heard. Thus for 
three minutes, possibly, the insane panic dominated the 
audience of exceptionally intelligent Yankee adult men 
and women in broad daylight; then a sudden pause — 
everyone was still. It occurred to the excited crowd, 
"What are we fleeing from.^" They stopped, no one 
seriously hurt, though many were greatly disheveled and 
bruised, with not a few hats crushed; a dozen or so win- 
dows were smashed. 

At this pause, Doctor Peck was heard stating that the 
house was not on fire, that the gallery timbers had not 
broken, that only a restive horse, hitched near the church, 
had broken the post to which he had been fastened. The 
shamefaced audience, many of them, returned to their 
seats, a few scores insisted upon going home to do their 
blushing in private. Young Graves, being called on, 



BOYHOOD 19 

resumed his oration, facetiously apologizing for having so 
disturbed the audience. I had my seat under the gallery, 
and near the stage, and to my no little self-congratulation 
I had not joined in the panic, so without perturbation was 
able to respond "next" with a brave oration on "Poverty, 
a beneficent step-mother." 

Whenever, as principal, I presided over great audiences, 
it became my custom, before introducing the speakers, 
to refer in a humorous way to the possibility of panic, 
explaining clearly three ways of safe egress. No panic 
or stampede has ever occurred under my administration. 



CHAPTER II 

GAINING AN EDUCATION 

Entering College 

The proffer of a scholarship by my father's clerical 
brother, Bishop Isbell of Troy Conference, made feasible 
my ambition to enter Wesleyan University, at that time 
the only college under Methodist auspices. Beautifully 
situated in an ideal college town, overlooking the Con- 
necticut valley, though but thirteen years old, this univer- 
sity, through the great names of Fiske and Olin, was 
successfully established and was already taking high rank 
among the colleges of New England. 

Passing unconditioned a most exacting personal ex- 
amination by three of the professors in September, 1844, 
I found myself admitted to the Sophomore class of twenty- 
four men. One deficiency in preparation for advanced 
standing, it was my fortune to discover, viz., a working 
knowledge of logarithms. An all-night victorious struggle, 
and I was fitted for the race in mathematics. Thereafter 
my studies were continued with increasing joy. At the 
end of the year I was delighted, though not surprised, to 
find myself at the head of the class in the calculus, as 
well as uniformly leading in Greek. 

Despite my three winter schools of twenty weeks each, 
I was announced salutatorian at the Junior exhibition. 
The doors of Psi Upsilon had opened to me, and in my 
Senior year I donned the Phi Beta Kappa key. At com- 
mencement in 1847 I would have been valedictorian only 




COLLEGE ROW, WESLEYAN UNIVERSITY 



GAINING AN EDUCATION 21 

I felt that I could not afford to permit my rival, Colburn, 
to drown in order to secure the place for myself. 



A Midnight Swim 

This episode occurred at midnight, late in June. After 
the adjourned meeting in the Psi Upsilon fraternity hall, 
a party of us went bathing in the Connecticut — Orange 
Judd, his brother, a Junior, Colburn, and myself, King. 
When disrobed for the swim, some one called out, "A 
race to the schooner!" The schooner lay at anchor two 
thirds of the way across the river. Upon the word each 
plunged in. An expert swimmer, I led the party, drew 
near the schooner and saw a looped-up rope hanging at 
the stern, to which I was making for a rest. And now 
arose a pitiful, despairing cry, "Help! help! For God's 
sake!" It was from Colburn, who, handicapped by a 
partially withered right arm, had exhausted himself. I 
also, having striven for victory, was out of breath, but 
did not hesitate to turn to the rescue. In the reflection 
of an instant, I had thought, "It is my Psi Upsilon brother; 
he only is above me in class. I must save him, or drown 
with him." 

On reaching my panic-stricken classmate I said to him 
sternly, " I am going to save you, but you must not touch 
me. If you do we will go down together." Seizing him 
by the shoulder, with my left arm I tugged him toward 
the stern of the schooner. I had drawn him within eight 
or ten feet of the vessel when my own strength gave out, 
and I " saw stars." Saying to Colburn, "Keep your hands 
under the water, I must rest for an instant," I let go and 
turned upon my back for one long breath. Then reinvig- 



22 A REMINISCENT BOOK 

orated I seized my classmate and "yanked" him to the 
rope, put his good arm through the loop and then my 
own, where we hung utterly exhausted until the two 
Judds, coming with a boat, lifted us into it. On reach- 
ing the shore, the rescued Senior said, "King, I owe you 
my life, but for you, I should have died like a dog.'* 
"We could not afford to let you drown," I replied. That 
incident was closed, neither of us ever referring to it again. 

The class of '47 took their opportunities very seriously; 
they were preparing for the battle of life, every hour 
counted. Ten were intending to preach, seven would be 
teachers, six would be lawyers, others editors. Only 
once did we organize a class joke, for which the great 
president also made us thoroughly ashamed. Of the 
Junior essays which we were required to hand in for 
criticism, the discovery was made that the professor had 
permitted them to be looked over, and laughed at, pre- 
sumably, by certain society young ladies of the town. 
Therefore, as a dignified protest, we pasted the pages of 
our essays together, end to end, one after another, and at 
the very end appended our names, en bloc, like the sign- 
ing of the Declaration of Independence. This evasive 
paper, passing into the hands of an examining committee, 
caused an indignant demand that the individual essays be 
identified (it was under the administration of Dr. Smith). 
Everyone laughed. We took no class action, but one of 
the class took the essay scroll, cut it into separate parts, 
and wrote on each essay the author's name. Thus we 
escaped discipline or reproof. 

The professor did not thereafter pass our literary efforts 
around among his lady friends. 



GAINING AN EDUCATION 23 

How THE Bills Were Paid 

Three years we gave to most delightful toil. 
All daylight utilized, much midnight oil, 
Sharing the honors of 1847, 
Diplomas fairly earned and justly given. 

Asks some astute but unromantic man, 

What was our student's commissary plan? 

Were there not uses for some baser metal, 

No bills to audit, no accounts to settle? 

The problem this : Beginning empty-handed, 

With no rich relative who might befriend him. 

And no "society" its aid to lend him, 

How soon shall our ambitious youth be stranded? 

Though empty-handed, strong in resolution. 

With youth and health and iron constitution, 

Stout-hearted, self-reliant, never once in doubt. 

For "ways and means" he'd surely find them out; 

Declining loans, he chose the rugged way. 

To earn by sweat and wit the wherewithal to pay. 

For seven summers, hay and harvest fields 

Gave him the strength which rural labor yields. 

Six lovely winter district schools he found 

To expand his mind and purse while "boarding round." 

In all those seven years no day was lost. 

Reason enough. Could he afford the cost? 

No other uses had he for vacations, 

Than gainful toil, his chosen recreations. 

Presume not to commiserate our youth; 

His independence wrought no painful ruth. 

Frugal economies won his regards, 

And proved not without value afterwards. 

Decent apparel, or sufficient diet, 

He never lacked the ways or means to buy it. 

Flattering favors were with thanks declined. 

That he could not reciprocate in kind. 



24 A REMINISCENT BOOK 

As livery rides, or treats, or feasts or shows. 
Expensive gifts, gew-gaws or furbelows. 
Abjuring these, he scarce deemed self-denial. 
When manhood's very self was put to trial. 
Surrendering mere inconsequential toys, 
To win instead immeasurable joys. 
Six testing decades passing in review, 
He finds he builded better than he knew. 
His debt to worthy teachers he confesses. 
As foremost factors in his life's successes. 
But supplementing school and college lore, 
Substantial thanks he owes to farm and store. 
His out-door labor made him an athlete. 
By tussling taught to light upon his feet. 

Two OF Wesleyan's Presidents: 

OLIN AND CUMMINGS 

A typical young Vermont giant, Stephen Clin, entering 
Middlebury College, had made there a notable record 
for deep original thinking, high scholarship, and manly 
character. He was pronounced by one of the professors 
as "the ripest scholar that had ever come before him for 
a degree." Immediately upon his graduation he accepted 
a call to the principalship of Tabernacle Academy in 
South Carolina. Conference appointments, professor- 
ship of English Literature in the University of Georgia, 
presidency of Randolph-Macon College in Virginia, some 
years of travel in Europe, Egypt and the Holy Land fol- 
lowed; then, at the age of forty-seven, he became president 
of Wesleyan University, bringing hither extraordinary 
qualifications and the prestige of achievement and success. 

As to discipline.? His presence was enough. Indul- 
gence in a freak of disorder under Dr. Olin was unthink- 
able to us. Once only had he occasion to administer 



GAINING AN EDUCATION 25 

reproof to the class of '47. It was in our Junior year. 
During his absence as a delegate to the Evangelical Alli- 
ance in London, he had written a letter of greeting and 
fatherly counsel to the students, and as secretary of that 
body, it was made my duty to read this epistle at a col- 
lege meeting. Deciphering its extraordinary chirography 
and rereading it a few times, I made out to report the 
president's letter fluently and distinctly, and the boys 
were charmed with it. During his absence the acting 
president was the scholarly and gentlemanly Dr. Augustus 
Smith, whom, while highly esteemed, we did not stand 
quite in awe of. In a springtime friskiness, the class had 
bolted a recitation in Greek with no word of explanation. 
At this precise moment, Dr. Olin returned to Middletown, 
resumed his reign, and found us red-handed in rebellion! 
Summoned to an audience in the chapel, we cowered before 
the aspect of his majestic displeasure. We attempted 
no defense and had no thought of resorting to fictitious 
excuse. For perhaps two minutes he held up to us the 
gravity of our offense, especially as the perilous example 
of disloyalty to the college in the concerted action of a 
class. " God knows, young gentlemen, I will protect the 
honor and authority of the college at whatever cost!" 
Had we no regard for honor or for Christian manliness? 
The skies grew very dark above us. We were humbled, 
crushed, and annihilated. Had we nothing to say for 
ourselves.f^ "Only this," one of us found voice to say, 
*'we had only intended a frolic; but seem to have acted 
like fools, and are heartily ashamed of ourselves." We 
would obediently accept whatever penalty he thought it 
right to impose. 

And now came a magical change of manner. Our 



26 A REMINISCENT BOOK 

obvious sincerity and truthfulness had drawn the light- 
ning from the lowering heavens, and we were overwhelmed 
by his magnanimity. After some thoughtful and tenderly 
spoken suggestions of the great opportunities and the 
corresponding responsibilities of young men in college, 
who were the predestined leaders and guides of the coming 
generation, the doctor rose to his feet, giving each of us a 
fatherly look, and extending his arms toward and over us 
as of blended protection and benediction. We under- 
stood that we were forgiven. The incident was closed. 
We went out of the chapel with clearer conceptions and 
higher ideals, and with the unspoken resolution to be 
loyal through life to all the manly virtues, and each of us 
decidedly in love with the president. As we saw com- 
mencement looming in the near distance, we were filled 
with poignant regret that we could not have another year 
at the university to enjoy the instruction of a faculty so 
capable, so inspiring and brotherly. 

The text of Dr. Olin's baccalaureate was, "As a man 
thinketh in his heart, so is he." Deeply in earnest from 
his first utterance, his fervor and force increased till his 
face was aglow as with his whole heart he poured out a 
Niagara of great thoughts. Leaning over the pulpit, with 
his gigantic frame and long arms thrust forward, he seemed 
to be pleading that we be filled with the spirit of the great 
truths he proclaimed. The vast audience hung upon his 
words with rapture, losing all sense of time, their only 
fear that he might come to an end. By the clock he spoke 
an hour and forty minutes. 

During the administration of Dr. Clin there was a 
marked uplift in the college in many lines. Strong 
young men were attracted to its halls in increasing num- 



GAINING AN EDUCATION 27 

bers, influential friends were made, finances were strength- 
ened, and tokens of respect of the older colleges of the 
country found expression. 

^ ^ ^ ^ Hi! 

Joseph Cummings, a graduate of the class of 1840, had 
enjoyed the instruction of Doctor Fisk. For the vacant 
presidency of Wesleyan, three names were suggested — 
Matthew Simpson, David W. Clark (afterward bishop), 
and Joseph Cummings. By a slight majority over Doc- 
tor Clark, Doctor Cummings was chosen. 

After a modest installation he began his term of service 
in 1857, at the age of forty. He brought to this exacting 
office a stalwart frame, robust health, a prodigious capacity 
for work, together with a reputation for wide general 
scholarship and forceful and convincing speech, a domi- 
nant will, and the habit of accomplishing whatever he 
undertook. Then followed seventeen years of unstinted 
devotion and indefatigable industry, seeking no respite 
for himself by day or by night. Vacations did not suggest 
rest or recreation, but rather added opportunities for 
work for the university. To expedite results, he might 
often be found attending to details that might have been 
assigned to others. The vehicle he drove must arrive, 
albeit a gate-post be jarred; so much the worse for the 
gate-post. That his administration was a strong one was 
evident. The classes maintained their full ranks or were 
increased, despite their decimation during the Civil War. 
The finances grew apace. Out of nothing, through his 
personal activity, there came the evolution of three 
noble monumental piles of brown stone on the campus, 
on the door-posts of which was ineffaceably inscribed, 
"Joseph Cummings, his mark." 



28 A REMINISCENT BOOK 

The dedication of the Memorial Chapel was, perhaps, 
the climax of his presidential term and the happiest day 
of his life. The long struggle had crushed the tenacious 
fiber of his nerves. In the years following he began to 
know hours of weariness and depression. The dangerous 
gift of sarcasm was his and it sometimes wounded like 
the cut of a knife. The weightier matters of law he still 
sought jealously to observe; but now and again he quite 
ignored his tithes of "mint and anise." That he should 
fail undeniably to remember the conventional courtesies 
and the sympathetic consideration due to his learned and 
estimable associates, was unfortunate, but inevitable in 
the condition of things that had obtained. A demand was 
made for his resignation. 

Two of the trustees, his lifelong friends, were deputed 
to communicate with the doctor at his oflSce. He bore 
the announcement manfully. It was the one great humili- 
ation of his life. "I will make answer to the trustees at 
once." Walking between his two friends, with stalwart 
stride to the chapel, on entering the room where the 
board was in session, he greeted them with a stately bow. 
There, standing erect and with not a quiver in features or 
in voice, he said: "Gentlemen of the Board of Trustees, 
I respectfully request you to accept my resignation as 
president of Wesleyan University." No word was spoken 
in reply, and he silently retired. At the unanimous re- 
quest of the board, he consented to remain as professor 
of philosophy. This he did to the satisfaction of his 
classes, but to his own discomfort — a deposed monarch 
in a subordinate position constituted a strained situation. 
He asked to be relieved and finally withdrew from the 
university. Accepting such pastorates as his Confer- 



GAINING AN EDUCATION 29 

ence could give, lie was happy in this comparative 
retirement. 

But now the unexpected happened. It developed that 
he had troops of influential friends. A call came to him 
from the Northwestern University. He was in his early 
sixties, and his respite from great cares for a few years 
had renewed his pristine vigor. He accepted the presi- 
dency and gave for a decade to that strong, young uni- 
versity, a wise, safe, and successful administration, and 
thus superbly rounded out his eminent career. No 
authentic annals of Wesleyan University can omit the 
name of Joseph Cummings as one of her great presidents. 



CHAPTER III 
THE YOUNG TEACHER 

A Call to His Life Work 

Too soon had come our day of graduation 
Called to the front, each fires his brief oration. 
Then forth we go, with high resolve to win 
The world before us. Where should we begin? 

Free lands for all, on our new western coast, 
And mines of gold a Croesus might not boast, 
Set countless throngs to delving in the ground. 
Such was the mercenary world he found. 
To deal in men was legal merchandise, 
And few, or black or white, but had their price. 
Despite the sordid time, the tempter's thrall 
A still small voice he heard, the Master's call, 
'Go preach and teach: and win the ingenuous youths; 
Awake their souls, and pledge them to the truth." 

From that day forth, such has his mission been; 

The door that opened first he gladly entered in. 

And lo: a ponderous volume now appears 

The strenuous toil of more than three score years. 

Unwritten annals, both of cares and joys. 

Save in the lives of sixteen thousand girls and boys. 

In many climes, by deed or voice or pen, 

Living epistles, known and read of men. 

Six years, a due apprenticeship to gain. 
At Newbury spent, another at Fort Plain, 
When came the greater "Institute's" creation, 
And gathering hosts from more than half the nation. 

30 



THE YOUNG TEACHER 31 

Six Years at Newbury 

On my graduation in the summer of 1847, I was ninety- 
dollars in debt. An invitation to teach in the Vermont 
Conference Seminary at Newbury was eagerly accepted. 
Had there been a delay of a week, to accept this call, I 
should undoubtedly have gone to Alabama, where I was 
later invited to a principalship at thrice the salary agreed 
at Newbury. 

The seminary buildings were a substantial three-story 
brick building for school purposes, and a detached white 
and green boarding house, equal to the modest demands 
of the seminary household of forty or fifty. The stu- 
dents, mostly, engaged rooms in some of the small homes 
of the village; in about equal numbers they came from 
Vermont and New Hampshire, on either side of the val- 
ley. In 1852 the registration reached the high-water 
mark of two hundred and ninety-seven young women and 
two hundred and thirty-seven young men. They were 
capable, ambitious, and willing to pay the price of rigid 
economy. Under my administration the seminary build- 
ing was internally reconstructed, and greatly improved. 

Obtaining a special charter from the legislature, New- 
bury Seminary was among the first to provide a semi- 
collegiate course for young women; and thirty-two rare 
young women received diplomas from my hands, and as 
many young men entered college. I left regretfully a 
seminary very much alive, out of debt, and with money 
in its treasury. 

In addition to valuable self-disciplining, during my 
six strenuous years, I count as my richest compensation 
that I found there and had taken to myself in marriage, 
Melissa Bayley, one of the fairest and worthiest in that 



32 A REMINISCENT BOOK 

fair valley, who became the mother of my children, and 
who for thirty-seven years made my home a sanctuary, 
a refuge, and a delight. 

Newbury Revisited August, 1912 

Beautiful for situation on the west bank of the Connecti- 
cut, which winds gracefully through a fertile valley whose 
meadow lands have enriched six generations with boun- 
teous harvests, and overlooked by Mount Pulaski, while 
in the distance on one side are visible the Green Mountains 
of Vermont, and on the other the White Mountains of 
New Hampshire, lies the fair village of Newbury, its neat 
white houses with gables to the streets, its plain but hand- 
some churches, its smart new library, and on its broad 
common, its venerable three-story brick seminary, and by 
the side of it a new public hall, — population 2,700. The 
old, spacious, white boarding house, with a wide veranda 
on two sides, also fronts on the common. 

A group of Anglo-Saxon Puritans founded it, taking 
possession of the Coos valley in 1762, led by Gen. Jacob 
Bayley, a brigadier-general in Revolutionary days, who 
defended the young settlement from the Indians and who 
led stalwart volunteer soldiers in the battles of Bennington 
and Saratoga — a godly, virile patriot, who "trusted in 
God, and kept his powder dry." He died on his Oxbow 
farm in 1815 at the age of eighty-nine. 

On Tuesday, August 13, 1912, three generations of his 
descendants united in dedicating to his memory, on the 
common, a noble granite monument, inscribed on its sides: 
"Pioneer, Patriot, Soldier, Citizen." 

"While called to be the guest of the village during their 
Old Home Week, because of my six years of teaching in 




VIEW OF NEWBURY SEMINARY AND VILLAGE 




NEWBURY SEMINARY 



THE YOUNG TEACHER 33 

their seminary, 1847-53, jSve years as principal, during 
which the school had reached its high-water mark, yet 
the honoring of Gen. Bay ley also appealed to me, as by 
marriage I had become his greatgrandson-in-law in July, 
1850. With a daughter and a grandson present with me, 
we represented three generations of the Jacob Bayley 
family. 

Visiting his grave in the Oxbow cemetery, we stood 
uncovered by the plain slate slab that marks the place 
where the gallant hero was buried, and sang together 
"Glory, glory, hallelujah; God is marching on." 

Sunday morning I preached in the Methodist Church 
where had begun my ministry sixty-two years before. 

Wednesday morning was given to the reunion of New- 
bury Seminary held in the Methodist Church, where I 
spoke reminiscently of things grave and gay for one hour. 
Of my associates in the faculty, first and last, were seven 
worthy college-bred men, and as many cultured and gra- 
cious women, and all had wrought nobly, and had passed 
to their heavenly reward. Twelve octogenarians, who had 
been my Newbury pupils, were seated in front! Many 
scores greeted me, the relatives of former students. 

During my six years more than 2,000 students had been 
registered, not a few of the young men preparing for col- 
lege, while the more ambitious of the young women took 
a liberal course for graduation in the collegiate institute 
founded in 1850. The poet, Luella Clark, an elect lady, 
had come a hundred miles to greet the principal who sixty 
years ago had put her in love with her Virgil. The semi- 
nary in 1868 was transferred by act of the Vermont confer- 
ence to Montpelier. 

Blessings on fair Newbury! The thronging memories 



34 A REMINISCENT BOOK 

of my six strenuous but delightful years spent there in my 
young manhood, supplemented by pleasant greetings and 
recognitions, and by charming hospitalities, made it good 
to be there. 



A Strenuous Year at Fort Plain 

A new, large brick boarding seminary had been built at 
Fort Plain, New York, to accommodate three hundred 
resident students. At the suggestion of Bishop Jayne I 
was invited by the trustees to visit Fort Plain, with the 
offering of the principalship in view. The visit impressed 
me that a great school could be founded there; New York 
had been my native state. 

I asked for a delay of six days, would accept or decline 
by telegraph. I returned to Newbury, and though the 
tidings of the call had been sufficiently published, I waited 
three days for an uprising of protest which I was too self- 
respecting to suggest. Then, with no little reluctance, 
mingled with chagrin, I telegraphed my acceptance. 
Then, the belated appeal of protest was noisily in evi- 
dence. The villagers offered me for ten years as principal 
ten thousand dollars, and a title to the academy proper- 
ties thereafter; but too late. 

A strenuous and delightful year at Fort Plain followed, 
with a faculty of sixteen and an enrollment for the three 
terms of 754 students, representing eleven of the states 
and Canada. The people were hospitable, and were 
proud of such dazzling success in their venture. The 
stockholders, however, failed by a few votes of electing 
the principal a member of the board of trustees. He 
quietly considered this result as serving notice upon him 



THE YOUNG TEACHER 35 

to look elsewhere, which he did. After he had consented 
to go to the greater seminary being erected at Fort Ed- 
ward, trustees and villagers implored him to remain on 
his own terms, all denominations and factions would 
stand by him, and the president of the board offered to 
resign. 

AN EPISODE AT FORT PLAIN 

Soon after the stockholders' meeting in mid-wivter, 
there assembled in the parlors of the seminary one after- 
noon, the entire Board of Trustees, fifteen in number 
representing about equally the three denominations, 
Dutch Reformed, Methodist, and Universalist. At their 
head was Hon. Peter J. Wagner, alumnus of Union College 
and a former member of Congress. 

The principal was summoned to meet this full and for- 
midable board. He met them amiably and affably; he 
was unafraid. 

"What is your desire, gentlemen.?" The president of 
the board, Mr. James Edwards, a lay elder of the Reformed 
Church and a prosperous and worthy citizen, was spokes- 
man. "Well, professor, we hear some things, as to your 
management of the seminary, that give us some anxiety; 
we want to meet properly our rightful responsibility — 
the subject is a delicate one — may we ask you a few ques- 
tions.f*" "Certainly, and they will be answered with the 
utmost frankness." 

" Is it not true that the young pastor of the Methodist 
Church is a frequent visitor at your rooms, a too frequent 
visitor?" "Go on, what further questions.'^" "You are 
holding a mid-week evening religious meeting, we are 
told; what are the methods and purposes of such meet- 



36 A REMINISCENT BOOK 

ings?" "Anything more?" "No, everything else seems 
going all right." 

"Thanks, gentlemen, for your frankness. This is my 
answer. You invited to the prineipalship of your semi- 
nary an educator and a clergyman, with the recommenda- 
tion of his bishop. How often he may receive calls from 
his young brother, who is manfully struggling to build up 
the Methodist Church in Fort Plain will be left absolutely 
to his own discretion. Yes, there is every Wednesday 
evening a religious meeting held by the principal, to which 
the students are invited. He is endeavoring, and will 
endeavor, to the utmost of his ability, to make his young 
people feel their obligation to prepare for usefulness by 
consecrating their lives to God, that they may form reli- 
able Christian characters. If your sons and daughters 
shall not, some of them, become sane, joyful Christians, 
enriching their own lives and giving added strength to the 
churches to which they may ally themselves, I shall feel 
that my work is a failure, and you may have me to bury. 
I think, gentlemen that you are to be congratulated that 
you have called to the head of your flourishing seminary 
not a mouse, but a man. If these principles do not meet 
with your approval, my resignation is at your service this 
moment." An awkward pause of possibly two minutes 
ensued. Then Doctor Snyder, the Universalist physician, 
spoke: "Gentlemen, I guess Professor King knows how to 
conduct this seminary better than we do, and we had bet- 
ter leave it all to him." Some one laughed, and then 
all laughed. 

On some one's motion it was voted to adjourn. The 
incident was closed. The Board shook hands cordially 
with the principal, who hoped they would call often. 



THE YOUNG TEACHER 37 

A Summer Incident 

The Exposition of Arts, Inventions, and Industries in 
the Crystal Palace in 1853 was the attraction that called 
us to New York. The imposing structure was beautiful, 
but it failed to draw the expected remunerating crowds. 
The environs of the stately building were shockingly 
disenchanting. After half a century we remember the 
scores of shabby huts, each with its bearded goat at the 
door, more vividly than any of the exhibits of the building. 

An outside incident furnished the only exciting expe- 
rience in our visit to the fair. We three young brothers 
formed the party. Extending our researches to the 
Bowery, we stumbled on a mock auction. A well-dressed 
group in attendance, the auctioneer was dilating on the 
excellence and the cheapness of a package of lead pencils. 
He held up a gross of them. "How much, gentlemen.'^" 
Some one said, "Fifteen cents." Then my brother Ben- 
jamin, who had perhaps twenty-five dollars in his pocket, 
earned in the hay field, felt a speculator's impulse, and 
bid "Twenty -five cents," meaning for the gross. They 
were struck off to him. The bull-necked auctioneer than 
said, "Come into this room," and then demanded pay for 
the gross at twenty -five cents per dozen. Benjamin re- 
fused. The bully looked dangerous. My younger brother 
James, a slender lad of fourteen, but with a penetrating, 
far-reaching voice — in after years so often lifted up in 
New York for every good cause — shouted, "Pay him, 
Benjamin!" This call only stiffened Benjamin's back, 
but it accomplished what the diplomatic young lad sought 
— it called the police. Thus the innocent brothers re'ired 
unrobbed and unhurt, the incident to be a not-unpleas- 
ing souvenir of their visit to the Exposition of 1853. 



38 A REMINISCENT BOOK 

Impressions of Great Men of the Period 
bishop hedding 

Elijah Hedding, born in Dutchess County, New York, 
in 1780, was in early boyhood taken to Vermont, where, 
with such meager help as the short-term common schools 
could afford, and with plenty of mountain air, he grew to 
be a stalwart and typical Vermonter. A preacher at 
nineteen, later pastor and presiding elder, at forty-four 
he was made bishop. 

A massive frame, a Websterian head, a strong face, and 
a great, big voice, made his presence formidable. He 
presided at the Conference with calmness and a bluff 
brotherly courtesy, yet with a forceful decisiveness and 
aspect of authority that no one could question. His 
prayer and his brief address had an evangelistic and real- 
istic quality that evoked fervid responses from the vet- 
erans of the Conference. That he could command his 
emotions and yet possess possible volcanic fires in his 
broad breast, was made evident that Sunday morning. 

On the fine sloping green of Barre were assembled, partly 
seated, but for the most part standing, more than a thou- 
sand people; most of whom, like myself, were to hear a 
Methodist bishop for the first time. When the bishop 
began, he moderated his great voice, but in it was a sup- 
pressed intensity that caused it to reach the furthermost 
man in the expectant multitude. As he warmed in his 
discourse, his form seemed to dilate and pentecostal fires 
blazed from his eyes. Every word seemed to weigh a 
pound, and for a rapturous hour he held the great audi- 
ence spell -bound. Doctrinal, logical, luminous, inspiring, 
it was a great sermon. If there were few jewels on its hilt. 



THE YOUNG TEACHER 39 

surely the broad sword he wielded was that of no ordinary 
athlete. The living, burning animus of the discourse was 
a marshaling of Christian soldiers to a glorious spiritual 
warfare with a presage and promise of certain victory. 
Had the speaker, like another and inspiring Ethan Allen, 
called for volunteers then and there to assault some frown- 
ing fortress of sin at the peril of their lives, surely not a 
few of the young men would have responded, *'Lead us. 
Bishop, we will follow." 

JOHN PRICE DURBIN 

Troy Conference of 1854 was held at Albany. For the 
missionary evening had been secured Dr. Wiley, just re- 
turned from his medical and ministerial term in China, Dr. 
Durbin, in his fourth year of missionary service, and 
myself, the young principal of Fort Plain Seminary, to 
be sandwiched between them. 

Dr. Wiley told of his devotion, by his mother, to the 
missionary work while he was a babe. He was interesting 
but prolix — the early June evening was short. Turning 
to Dr. Durbin, I said, sotto voce, ' 'Leave me out. It is 
you we desire to hear." "How long do you expect to 
occupy.?" "Perhaps twenty minutes." "Then," said 
he, "you must give it all to us, and red hot." I took less 
than my twenty minutes, but they were all red hot, with 
one certain beneficial effect, that they awakened the elo- 
quent doctor to give us a magnificent address of fifty 
minutes. 

He began slowly and prolonging the vowel sounds: 
"How-long-I-may-detain-this-audience-will-depend-mate- 
rially-on-how-you-listen. I had thought to submit some 
observations on the preparatory work of missions. Is it 



40 A REMINISCENT BOOK 

your idea that the first work of the missionary is to get 
the heathen man converted, and then put him to speaking 
in the class meeting and the love feast? The Bible must 
be translated into his language; that language must be 
learned before you can preach to him; his social environ- 
ment must be studied and understood by personal expe- 
rience, before you can effectively tell him the sacred story. 
Why, many long generations passed before the first apos- 
tles got a hearing in pagan Rome, but the stage of prepara- 
tion had passed." 

Now the drawling utterance ceased, and, taking on the 
pose of a consummate tragic actor, he was describing a 
ballot in the Roman Senate over the problem to recognize 
the Church of Christ — "Black ball, black ball, white ball, 
black ball, white ball, white ball, white ball"; finally, 
announcing the result, "Jupiter was dethroned, and Jesus 
Christ was oflScially acknowledged at the head of the 
Roman Empire." 

Then followed, in one thrilling period after another, with 
increasing fervor, beauty and majesty, a presentation of 
the young missionary cause of the Methodist Episcopal 
Church. It was ten o'clock when he closed. The elec- 
trified audience, after reverently singing the doxology, 
went away slowly pondering those things in their hearts. 

At the subsequent sessions of the Conference, when 
stopping over the Sabbath, Dr. Durbin was, next to the 
Bishop, the star preacher. 

At the Pittsfield, Mass., Conference he delivered a mem- 
orable sermon, Sunday morning, in the Presbyterian 
Church. He was now sixty-seven. With his thinning 
gray hair, his heavy dark eyebrows, deep-set black eyes, 
smooth-shaven angular face with its aspect of sad, almost 



THE YOUNG TEACHER 41 

weird severity (especially after uttering an emphatic sen- 
tence), he was a strikingly impressive rather than an in- 
gratiating figure. In his strenuous life vigor and intensity 
had put their impress on his features — he was rarely dis- 
covered in the act of smiling. 

His text was from Hebrews, "For it became him for 
whom are all things, and by whom are all things, in bring- 
ing sons into glory, to make the captain of their salvation 
perfect through suffering." For perhaps ten minutes his 
disenchanting drawl had, in that summer afternoon, a 
somewhat somnolent effect, but now came a dramatic 
change. The vast audience became wide awake. He 
had put a long period interrogatively, rehearsing tenderly 
the sufferings of Christ. An intelligent man, knowing 
all this — how being infinitely rich, the divine Lord be- 
came poor, that we, through His poverty, might become 
rich, and might become through His sufferings the heirs 
of eternal life, and partakers of His glory — what does he 
deserve that shows himself indifferent to the claims of the 
gospel.'' "Permit me to repeat, what does he deserve, 
when he knows that Christ tasted death for him, that he 
might be saved from his sins and become an heir of God, 
and a joint heir with Jesus Christ to an inheritance of 
inestimable happiness and glory.''" (repeating, literally, 
the same wonderful words). After an impressive pause, 
"Does he not deserve the damnation of hell?" This 
was emphasized by that weird expression of countenance, 
as though he then had a ghastly glimpse of the bottomless 
pit. For a full three quarters of an hour thereafter he held 
the awed attention of his audience, and no one of us was 
found smiling for hours afterward. 

Dr. Durbin was a great pulpit orator, a great college 



42 A REMINISCENT BOOK 

president, and a grand missionary secretary. He declined 
a reelection in 1872, seldom after appearing in public. 
Few men have been so greatly admired and beloved. He 
died at seventy-six. 

DANIEL WEBSTER 

The Whiga had nominated General Zachary Taylor, the 
hero of the Mexican War. It was understood that Web- 
ster had expected the national convention to name him 
for the great office, but his friends had mustered only 
sixteen votes for him, and, in his disappointment and 
disgust, he had declared that the nomination of a mere 
general was "not fit to be made." He had, however, on 
reflection, concluded as a choice of two evils to favor Gen- 
eral Taylor rather than General Lewis Cass, who had 
been selected by the Democrats. 

It was in the early autumn of 1848, while on a visit 
home from my school work as an aspiring young professor 
at the Vermont Conference Seminary, at Newbury, that I 
saw Webster. The fame of the American Demosthenes 
was world-wide. We all knew of his brave and triumphant 
struggle in his boyhood to secure a college education, of 
his creditable graduation at Dartmouth, of his early and 
rapid advancement as a lawyer, and as a brilliant and 
forceful orator on patriotic occasions; how he had won 
the cause of his alma mater in the Supreme Court of the 
United States, beginning his great plea, "Gentlemen, it 
is true that Dartmouth is only a small college, but there 
are those that love her." All ambitious young Americans 
knew by heart and had declaimed on the academic plat- 
forms selected passages of his great addresses at Bunker 
Hill on the death of Adams and Jefferson, and very espe- 
cially his magnificent reply to Hayne. 



THE YOUNG TEACHER 43 

The announcement that Webster would address a mass 
meeting at the Agricultural Fair grounds, near Albany, 
N. Y., called together a vast multitude from the adjacent 
counties. The elements were auspicious, an ideal early 
September day. The bands played with all the stops 
wide open. The admiring throngs were arrayed in their 
best, making themselves worthy of the historic occasion. 

Not more than one in a thousand had ever seen the 
illustrious senator, of whom they had heard and read all 
their lives. The physical man was not disappointing. He 
was taller than the average, finely proportioned as a mid- 
dle-aged Apollo. He wore a blue broadcloth coat, the 
gilt buttons of which gleamed and flashed in the sun, vest 
and trousers of dark orange hue, a broad snow-white collar. 
All was surmounted by the head of a Jove, crowned by 
black hair thinned somewhat by his sixty-six years, his 
dark eyes deep set, a ponderous brow where thunders 
seemed to lurk, and a luminous face whose august features 
irradiated wisdom, authority, and majesty. 

The multitude stared and admired in reverent silence. 
When he arose on the platform to begin his address, a 
great wave of applause was poured up to him from the 
vast crowd, followed by a profound silence — every eye 
focused upon him, every ear attent. In a clear-voiced 
baritone, he began with a lucid statement of the leading 
principles claimed by the Whigs to be vital to the pros- 
perity of the nation. There were no anathemas for the 
rival candidates, no words of praise for the Mexican War 
hero. General Taylor, and no fervid appeals to the senti- 
ment of loving loyalty to the Union which ached in more 
than 10,000 breasts, with eagerness to respond to the call 
of the mighty champion of "liberty and union." It was 



44 A REMINISCENT BOOK 

presently discovered that we were to be treated to the 
discussion by a great statesman of "the tariff," the so- 
called American doctrine, devised and championed by 
Clay, but formerly opposed by Webster. 

It was doubtless mildly interesting to be told by so 
great and gifted an orator that the first great protective 
tariff act had been signed by no less a person than George 
Washington, the first President of the Republic, but that 
was not what we had come to hear. The eulogistic say- 
ing of the Massachusetts farmer, on hearing the Bunker 
Hill monument address, that every word weighed a ton, 
recurred to me. Was this great eloquence we were hear- 
ing? Disappointed and disenchanted, we were jealous 
for the fame of him who had been heralded as the greatest 
orator since Demosthenes. 

After looking and listening loyally for forty minutes, to 
save what was left in my mind of the ideal, idolized para- 
gon, I quietly and stealthily withdrew from the throng, 
and, going off to a distant part of the grounds, I listened 
in a shame-faced manner to Colonel Culver, of Washing- 
ton county, who was charming a smaller crowd of fiery 
young men with his ingratiating humor, and telling anec- 
dotes of the Mexican War, and winning votes for Taylor 
and Fillmore. 

LOUIS KOSSUTH AT CONCORD 

In the spring of 1852 the whole nation was moved by 
the arrival on our coast of the gifted, gallant, but unfor- 
tunate leader of the attempted Hungarian revolution, 
Louis Kossuth. 

He had proved mightier with the pen than with the 
sword. His consummate ability as an editorial writer 
and his extraordinary gifts as an orator had sufficed to 



THE YOUNG TEACHER 45 

educate and arouse his countrymen to the desire to shake 
off the Austrian yoke. Made head of the Committee of 
National Defense, and afterward " Governor of the Prov- 
ince of Hungary," he was resourceful, devoted, and inde- 
fatigable, with no lack of courage, but he could not ac- 
complish the impossible. Austria, Germany, and Russia 
frowned; he was disappointed in finding allies in Western 
Europe; he could not assemble in his patriot army enough 
to "make good" the Declaration of Independence; and 
thus the revolution collapsed, leaving him a prisoner of 
war in Turkey. 

While Turkey gave him hospitable refuge for a year, he 
improved the time in mastering the English tongue, with 
the aid of a Bible, Shakespeare, and a lexicon. France 
refused to allow him to pass through her dominion, so, 
availing himself of an American vessel, he went first to 
England and thence to America. His hope was to induce 
the rich and mighty republic of the new world by his elo- 
quent appeals to come to the rescue of his struggling 
people, and that he might bear home to them a generous 
purse whereby the patriotic Hungarians could renew their 
fight for liberty. 

A sympathetic young teacher of Newbury Seminary at 
that time, I resolved to hear Kossuth, who was to speak 
near Boston. Arriving at Boston with a fellow teacher, 
Wesley Cushing, I found that the address was to be made 
at Concord, a suburb. The last train had gone. Not to 
be baflled, we were permitted by the engineer of an out- 
going freight train to embark on the locomotive. The 
cold wind made our necks stiff. Well, what of that.'' we 
thought; it became stalwart young Americans, at times, 
to have a stiff neck. 



46 A REMINISCENT BOOK 

Arriving at Concord, we paid our dollar and were ad- 
mitted to the hall, already filled to its capacity with the 
sons of those embattled farmers who "fired the shot heard 
round the world." Concord was the home of the eminent 
poet, philosopher, and lecturer, Ralph Waldo Emerson. 

Word was passed to the waiting audience that the ex- 
pected speaker was making a visit to the graves of the 
first martyrs to liberty who had fallen in the battles of 
Lexington and Concord, and we waited for twenty min- 
utes in tense silence, our hearts strangely warmed. Then 
they entered arm in arm, his host and the orator, Ralph 
Waldo Emerson and Louis Kossuth — 'par nohile fratrum, 
each at the maximum of his splendid powers, at this early 
meridian of his days — Emerson forty-nine, and Kossuth 
fifty. Emerson taller by a head, the faces of each aflame 
with an intense patriotic glow, they advanced to the plat- 
form with stately tread, while the assembly stamped and 
cheered rapturously. 

The introductory speech of Emerson, at this his own 
home, the very cradle of the American Revolution, among 
these his neighbors, the descendants of those famous Rev- 
olutionary patriots, and with such theme as presenting the 
representative of another nation struggling for its liberty, 
occupied ten minutes and was, perhaps, the most eloquent 
utterance of his life. "I have thought this day," said 
Emerson, "that the sacred dust of our revered ancestors 
must have been conscious of the presence of a spirit akin 
to their own," and then followed one glowing period after 
another, the great thoughts of this great seer, his heart at 
white heat, while he introduced the illustrious foreigner, 
and commended his message and his mission. Not a 
few of his responsive auditors had moistened eyes. We 



THE YOUNG TEACHER 47 

had seen with what intensity Kossuth had Hstened to his 
introductory speech; he was profoundly moved, as were 
all of us. 

The great Hungarian exile began bj^ announcing that 
he had then and there found a text for his message. It 
was Concord. For forty minutes he held us spellbound 
in an address — this man who taught himself in a year our 
most complicated tongue — of faultless and most lucid 
English, and with but a slight foreign accent. I recall 
but a single word that he mispronounced; it was a relief 
to the high tension in which he had wrought and held our 
spirits, to be permitted to smile at his repeated "Mas- 
sach'usetts." 

As though the assembly were a sworn jury representing 
the entire nation, he made his solemn argument and ap- 
peal, by the holy memories of the early struggle in their 
own Revolution at Lexington and Concord, and by the 
final glorious victory at Yorktown, which had been possi- 
ble only through the alliance and the aid of a friendly 
foreign power. He besought the mightiest republic on 
the globe to come to the rescue of struggling Hungary, 
and earn her eternal gratitude. 

Perturbed and sympathetic as we were, we did not lose 
our heads, and make rash promises. Well we knew the 
prudent policy of the republic, solemnly commended by 
Washington, to avoid "entangling alliances." Kossuth 
was with great courtesy dismissed from Massachusetts 
and from America with the few thousands of dollars his ad- 
dresses had gained, and with a few added resolutions of 
sympathy and God-speed. 

Our patriotic young men gave to the eloquent but baf- 
fled leader of a gallant people striving for liberty the silent 



48 A REMINISCENT BOOK 

tribute of sympathy by wearing for a decade the Kossuth 
hat. 

A few years later, still an exile, he died in Italy, leaving 
to his talented son, now a leader in the Parliament of 
Austria-Hungary, the struggle for the independence of his 
people. 



CHAPTER IV 
BEGINNINGS AT FORT EDWARD 

Fort Edward Collegiate Institute 

Some public-spirited citizens, notably George Harvey, 
Frederick D. Hodgman, and Orson Richards, prosperous 
business men, laymen in the Methodist Episcopal Church, 
together with some three hundred other subscribers, emu- 
lating the example of other counties, formed a stock 
company and built a large five-story brick building, 300 
feet long, with a 140-foot wing, calHng their enterprise 
"The Washington County Seminary and Female Colle- 
giate Institute." Naturally giving preference to a Meth- 
odist, though the seminary was to be impartially inter- 
denominational, they had invited the young principal of 
Fort Plain Seminary to visit their new building, and later 
had engaged him for a series of years, as principal and 
general manager, to be in partnership with Rev. Henry 
B. Taylor, a young member of Troy Conference. 

The Institute Opens 

The Institute was completed and open for students 
December 7, 1854, though as yet the plastered walls were 
imperfectly dried. Two months before, Messrs. King and 
Taylor had sent broadcast through twenty states and the 
Canadas, eighty thousand copies of a printed double 
sheet, with a cut of the building and an elaborate descrip- 



50 A REMINISCENT BOOK 

tion of the new institute — what it proposed to do for its 
students, and all expenses, including board, room, fuel, 
laundry, and general tuition for eighty-seven dollars per 
year of forty-two weeks. Music, Art, and the Languages, 
the only extras, were payable in advance by the term. 
Let it be remembered that the purchasing power of a dol- 
lar in those days was something extraordinary ! 

The teaching force and commissary department had 
been thoroughly organized and equipped. 

On the opening day in the dining hall, 120 feet by 40 
feet, there were seated 419 students, the "grand roll" 
averaged over 500 names a term. The menu was ample, 
wholesome and generous. The "stove pipe," a loaf so 
shaped, made of Indian meal and other ingredients, known 
only to our "Dutch" baker, and brought to the table 
piping hot, was enthusiastically appreciated. 

Organization 

A complete registration of the students being made, 
then by general and special advices, in which all the faculty 
were accessible, a course of study was decided upon and a 
definite program of studies for each day arranged. Then, 
everybody to work — to work! After three or four days, 
the dull wits, or the indolent who may have fallen out of 
line, were provided with helpers in a sort of hospital serv- 
ice. They got into line again, or some modification of a 
line possibly, or were sent home. 

The rules, with full explanation, were posted in every 
room. Order, promptness, faithful observance of re- 
quisite recitation and study hours, hour for retiring (indi- 
cated by five strokes of the Institute bell in the tower), 
propriety of dress and speech, courtesy, reverence for 



BEGINNINGS AT FORT EDWARD 51 

sacred names and things, these essentials to be taught by 
precept and the holding up of high ideals in many a brief 
and timely lecture talk, and notably by the winsome per- 
sonality and example of the faculty. Thus may, should, 
and can be induced an atmosphere and public spirit that 
shall render any act or word against decency and order 
distasteful and unpopular. Enthusiasm for things worth 
while, detestation of shirks and goody-goody nobodies; 
in faculty and students an unparaded, but ever-present 
religious sentiment and spirit, sane, reverent, sympa- 
thetic, joyful, contributed powerfully in securing an ideal 
school government, moving quietly, almost automatically, 
with seldom any call for discipline. 

It was the rule of the administration to require, with 
rare exceptions, as condition to admission to the faculty, 
that in addition to thorough intellectual and personal 
fitness, the teacher should also be a communicant in some 
one of the evangelical churches. Church attendance was 
required at one of the village churches. Sunday evening 
and Wednesday evening religious services were held in 
the Institute, to which all were invited, but attendance 
was voluntary. 

The beginning of a joyous and wholesome Christian life 
for many came when they were on the student roll at 
Fort Edward Institute. 

Essentials for Every Student 

The Institute insisted that respectable reading and 
spelling were essential for all its students. In the new 
departure, reading in suitable classes was required of all 
at least once a week, while a daily drill was required of 
those needing it. For all alike, a dictation exercise was 



52 A REMINISCENT BOOK 

conducted by the principal, once each week, and occa- 
sionally lively spelling contests were arranged. In the 
co-educational period, the essentials of English grammar 
were in charge of an expert teacher, and errors of unschol- 
arly lapses in speech were eliminated by an everlasting 
vigilance. 

In the literary societies, also, the habit of frank and 
pitiless criticism was maintained. For many years, the 
principal took personal charge of the declamations re- 
quired every third week, in order to meet and know the 
young men as well as to encourage and stimulate credible 
efforts in oratory. Original essays and orations rendered 
upon the chapel stage were discriminatingly criticized then 
and there. For this function the principal enjoyed valu- 
able suggestions from Professor Tavener and Professor 
Cumnock, of whose able lessons he had frequently availed 
himself. 

From the first, aspiration and ambition for excellence 
in essay writing and speaking were promoted by competi- 
tive prizes. A watchful glance, occasionally, at the record 
of the student's progress, or lack of it, enabled the prin- 
cipal, with his knowledge of the student's family and cir- 
cumstances, to advise modifications in his course of study. 
A question was, Ought this boy be induced to prepare for 
college, or was a commercial, or other special course to be 
recommended .f^ 

Discipline 

The first case occurred at noon the first day. The 
tables had been dismissed, over four hundred students 
were quietly moving out of the dining room. Some 
twenty or so had lingered in conversation for a moment, 
when a big jolly farmer's boy of nineteen, to my no little 



BEGINNINGS AT FORT EDWARD 53 

surprise, began with another lad a game of leap frog. 
Before the second leap could be executed, I rang the bell, 
and in well-modulated, quiet tone said to the audacious 
fellow, "Young man, you need not unpack your trunk. 
This is no place for such as you." He was quite terrorized 
and begged to be permitted to stay. I refused to talk 
with him, and not until a group of his friends became 
responsible for his future good conduct did I allow him 
to register as a student. Thus an audacious offender was 
dealt with summarily, and without five minutes' delay. 

We had two night watchmen, relieving each other dur- 
ing the night. If a student was discovered making a 
"racket" after ten p. m., he must be made to dress him- 
self and leave the building; he could see the principal the 
next morning at nine. If a self-sufiicient young man pre- 
sumed to extend his gallantries into the ladies' depart- 
ment, in hall, in room or on grounds he knew to be de- 
voted to their use, he must be required to take the very 
next train out of town, though he be the son of a con- 
gressman or a bishop. To a popular young man who 
thought himself called to the ministry, and who under 
pretext of conferring about some music to be used in a 
special function, entered a lady's room at 9.30 p. m., I 
said, in the painful task of dismissing him, "I love thee, 
Cassio, but never more be officer of mine." 

Occasionally one or more young men had been found 
under the influence of liquor. They were reasoned with 
privately and in a heart-to-heart talk urged to sign an 
iron-clad total abstinence pledge for three years, all in 
confidence, and with no allusion to the case in chapel. 
Thus they could be retained as students and were cured 
of a dangerous tendency. If the young man were proud 



54 A REMINISCENT BOOK 

and obstinate, I would read him a letter that I proposed 
sending to his father. He would beg me not to send it, 
and I would not. He signs the pledge and feels deeply- 
indebted for the clemency. 

A sterling young fellow of good family was preparing 
for West Point. He got overcome at a "county fair.'* 
He was ashamed and readily signed the pledge of total 
abstinence, "until I should have released him." He was 
graduated with honor and at that time wrote me courte- 
ously, asking for a release from his pledge; he was likely 
to be the guest of his superior oflScer, and it would be 
awkward to protrude his abstinence. I released him, and 
he did not abuse his liberty, but was honorably advanced 
until he became a general. This same man later, toward 
the close of the Civil War, was put in charge of an im- 
mense government construction plant for making artillery. 
He had to ask for millions of dollars and was called before 
the Committee of Appropriations in Congress to explain 
exactly the needs of the plant. Said a congressman, 
"How is it, General, you are not a lawyer, yet you can 
stand for half an hour urging your case, and gain it with- 
out a brief or a written word in your hand.'"' Said the 
General, "I can tell you. In a debating society at Fort 
Edward Institute I learned to think on my feet." 
***** 

Another discipline case developed somewhat humor- 
ously. A new student had arrived. Looking over the 

books I found that one of our regular students, S , 

was alone, and sent for him. When he entered my office, 
I saw to my pain and surprise that he was obviously under 
the influence of liquor. Staggering up to me, he said, 
** Professor, may I speak a word to you in confidence? 



BEGINNINGS AT FORT EDWARD 55 

Hie! — my folks wouldn't wish me to room with a stranger; 
he — hie! — might corrupt my morals." "You poor lad,'* 

I said, "You are drunk." "Professor," answered S , 

"I've got five hundred dollars in my room, hie, — and I'll 
give it to you if you put a crack down, if I don't walk it." 
I said, " Go to your room and go to sleep. In the morn- 
ing at nine o'clock we will see about your morals." He 
signed the pledge and kept it. I provided another place 
for the new student. 

In my experience with six winter schools, I had dis- 
covered that in the instinct of self-defense, when bluntly 
interrogated as to misconduct, the boy or girl was tempted 
to flout out a lying denial. In an embarrassing case, it 
is sometimes well to forbid the arraigned pupil to say any- 
thing until you are through with your conjectured state- 
ment of the case, while your temper and tone should be 
that of a sympathetic friend rather than of an angry, petty 
magistrate. "Now you may refuse to answer, or take 
some time to speak the exact truth, with the understand- 
ing that your statement will be kindly considered. If 
you have been disingenuous, but are not and have not 
meant to be a liar, let us know the facts." It was the 
persistent policy and purpose of the administration to 
avoid making liars in its methods of disciphne. 



The most painful reason for discipline is when money 
or other valuables have been clandestinely taken by some- 
one, nobody knows who. There are cruel suspicions. 
To find the abstracted valuables, if you can, is your obvi- 
ous duty, but, in the process, to avoid inflicting pain and 
even permanent wounds upon the innocent, is more nee- 



56 A REMINISCENT BOOK 

essary. A general search may be proposed by a section, 
or all the students. It will be without result except the 
humihation of the search. When a five or ten dollar bill 
is lost, better lend the loser that sum at once, than attempt 
any search or interrogation whatever. Only take the 
occasion to urge all students to take care of their pocket 
money, or deposit it with an ofiicer of the school, or in a 
bank. When any breach of discipline and good order 
occurs, and you are not known to know of it, the part of 
discretion may be to ignore it. In some occurrences it is 
wise to name a definite date for consideration of the case 
named. 

A wise use may be made of merits and demerits. Prizes 
are a stimulus to those who already excel; but the rank 
and file they sometimes dishearten. Cards of standing 
issued at least once each term are of inestimable value. 

Recreation Made Popular 

Recreation time must be carefully and wisely planned; 
all are advised and encouraged to participate in out-door 
sports. Moping in one's room, or frequent absentee-ism 
for whatever excuse, must be made unpopular, and if 
persevered in, cured by demerits or other discipline. To 
a homesick recluse let a sunny-hearted and tactful class- 
mate be detailed to call upon and bring him out. 

To what extent the principal or any teacher should 
engage personally in the sport with the students, is an 
interesting problem. Certain personal dignity should 
never be quite set aside ; his presence should be a pleasant 
stimulus, as well as a guarantee for self-control and clean- 
ness of speech. But assuredly he would not think it wise 



BEGINNINGS AT FORT EDWARD 57 

to engage in playing leap-frog, or to put on boxing gloves 
for a contest with his boys. 

Hazing was referred to, before it had time to develop, 
as resorted to by sneaks and cowards, and a statement of 
the right to self-defense in one's own room, with any im- 
provised implement at hand, as a poker, a ball club, or 
broomstick, but not to use a knife if it would wound. We 
had httle of this college brand of "fun" at the Institute, 
and what we had was not malicious. 

But a single instance of administering corporal punish- 
ment at the Institute is remembered by the principal. 
It was during the first week of the opening of the year. 
In the dining hall four hundred and nineteen sat at the 
tables. When the bell dismissed all, at the close of lunch- 
eon, there rang out a loud shrill whistle, such as a hoodlum 
boy knows how to perpetrate. What shall the young 
Principal do at this astounding disorder? Well, nothing 
today, the strained and intense silence was perhaps 
rebuke enough — the boy will not repeat it. But he did 
repeat it the next day. The Principal darted quietly 
down the long lines to the door of egress, confronted the 
lad, a sixteen-year-old Canadian, and seizing him by the 
left hand, administered to his fat cheek three stinging 
blows with the flat of his right hand, leaving with each a 
wide welt on his rosy face. Then he let him go. Not 
a word was spoken then, or afterward, but whistling in 
the dining room was effectively eliminated. 

A reasonable degree of versatility in administrat'on is 
desirable. To cure tendencies to disregard conventions 
known to polite society, or to use coarse or vulgar lan- 
guage, a tactful irony, or a pungent sarcasm at the op- 
portune moment, or, perhaps better, a private personal. 



58 A REMINISCENT BOOK 

confidential talk may be best. Public reproof is to be 
resorted to only in flagrant cases. 

Mutiny 

The first student dismissed was a blatant, egotistical 
young demagogue, who was baffled in his attempt to 
raise a frozen potato riot. After dinner he and two or 
three tools of his, had passed the word that there would 
be a students' mass meeting on the fourth floor. Some 
one hundred were assembled. By the inattention of the 
steward some frozen potatoes had been served on the 
table that were not up to the standard of that Washington 
County delicacy, and our young agitator was proposing 
an organized movement for "reform of the diet," when 
in the midst of his harangue the tower bell rang for one 
o'clock classes. At this moment the Principal stepped 
to his side. There was an instant rush. The Principal 
said in his ordinary tone of authority, "The bell has 
rung, young gentlemen, you may not have heard it. 
You will, of course, now go quietly and promptly to your 
classes, or to your rooms." There was a gentle but 
general clapping of hands, and then a quiet dispersal. 
Three hesitated. To the two accomplices, I said, "Do 
you refuse to go to your school work.^*" They sneaked 
away, leaving the demagogue alone with me. He had a 
surly look. "Young man, this is not the right place for 
your peculiar talents. Shall I permit you to withdraw 
at your own request, or shall I publicly expel you?" He 
answered angrily that he would withdraw. Refunded, 
pro rata for the unexpired part of the term, he was re- 
quired to pack his belongings and depart within the 
hour. 



BEGINNINGS AT FORT EDWARD 59 

Literary Societies 

Friday evenings were left free for all. It was the 
unwritten law that every student should be in attendance 
on his or her literary society. Of these that persisted 
and were permanent, were the "Senate" and "Young 
America" for gentlemen, and the "Aesthetic" and the 
"Minervian" for young ladies. The faculty was given 
honorary membership, and it was the policy of the ad- 
ministration that some member or members of the 
faculty should always happen to be in attendance. 
OflScers were elected monthly, and it was the ambition 
of each set of officials to conduct its affairs in a strictly 
parliamentary way and according to Jefferson's manual 
of order. 

Each evening's program required a debate and the 
society paper, with music, vocal and instrumental, and 
not infrequently ending with tableaux or a short play. 
The office of critic was frankly and faithfully admin- 
istered before closing by formal adjournment. Each 
society had its turn during the year in giving a "public" 
in the chapel, to which many outside guests were invited. 
The natural rivalry to secure preeminent success in the 
public verdict called out the best powers of those who 
took part. Occasionally "mock schemes" were published 
and an attempt made, by a rival society, to distribute 
them to the audience. These witty jokes and take-oflfs 
were not malicious, but clever, and were on the whole 
welcomed as adding to the interest of the occasion. 

The inspiring and educational value of these societies 
was very great, promoting the progress of many scores 
to positions of prominence and responsibility, and has 
many times been gratefully and gracefully acknowledged. 



60 A REMINISCENT BOOK 



Athletics 



At the Institute, for indoor athletics were provided 
parallel bars, hanging rings, and later a bowling alley. 
Out-of-doors there were croquet and tennis. The " Arena" 
was for football and baseball, the river for bathing in 
summer and skating in winter, while the historic Hudson 
valley offered unfailing attraction for pedestrians. Our 
rules in football, a modified soccer game, required that 
the ball be punted or kicked when caught, but never 
held or fallen upon; hence there was no wallowing or 
grovelling on the ground. It was a gentlemen's game; 
the professors joined in it with zest, the sides numbering 
at times from fifty to seventy-five each. 

During the deep snow of the winter of 1855, an extem- 
porized lofty toboggan slide was erected on the campus, 
which for a few days contributed to the gaiety of nations. 
Ah! the jollity of it! After fifty years one cannot think 
of it without irrepressible laughter. 

Anniversary Sermon of Dr. Eliphalet Nott 
sixty-two years president of union college 

Of the anniversary sermons preached at Fort Edward 
Collegiate Institute during its fifty-six years, that of Dr. 
Nott in his ninetieth year is yet remembered by some of 
"our oldest inhabitants." 

Ten years before, I had made his acquaintance. Being 
called upon to preach on a Sunday in the Methodist 
Episcopal Church in Schenectady, I noted the president 
of Union College seated in the congregation. At the close 
of the service he came forward, greeted me cordially, and 
asked me to be his guest for the night at his home, a sec- 




A CORNER OF THE INSTITUTE PARK 



BEGINNINGS AT FORT EDWARD 61 

tion of the college buildings. I was welcomed by his wife, 
a stately and gracious lady, "Urania," of whom a pleasant 
incident was told me by one of the professors. 

In his early seventies the doctor was making week-end 
visits to Utica, where a very elect lady resided, whose 
society he desired to cultivate with serious intentions. 
Vigorous as he was at his advanced age, there were times 
when his memory of recent matters was unreliable. As 
he arrived at the city, and took his way toward the well- 
known destination, he suddenly found himself a good deal 
perturbed by his inability to remember the name of the 
lady he purposed to visit. Now the man who had founded 
and endowed a great college was not without resource. 
Calling to him a bright-faced boy on the street, he said, 
"You are a student of the academy?" "Yes," "You 
know, of course, who is the preceptress?" Thus happily 
reinformed of the name of the lady, he successfully prose- 
cuted his courtship. 

In 1853, though an octogenarian, his tall form was not 
bowed with the weight of years; his massive head, crowned 
with abundant white hair, presented something of the 
Jacksonian militancy. He had keen gray eyes, a large 
nose, and the broad, generous mouth of an orator, and as 
he talked with you with an unquivering voice, he seemed 
but little past the vigorous noon-tide of his days. In the 
free conversation of the evening when I was his guest, 
after referring in a very kindly and appreciative way to 
my sermon of the morning, he said: "Professor, do you 
know I sometimes have greatly envied you Methodist 
ministers the liberty to preach just as well as they know 
how, throwing notes to the dogs, and yielding to the in- 
spiration of the occasion and the hour. Often have I 



62 A REMINISCENT BOOK 

responded to a call to speak in some rural church, or in a 
country schoolhouse, saying in my heart, Now I will have 
a good time and preach at my best, as the Methodists do; 
but what has been my chagrin to find on my arrival, that 
some of the professors and a group of seniors from the 
college had heard of the appointment and got there before 
me, so that I pull out my notes and remember that it was 
a college president who was to preach." 

When, at ninety years of age. President Nott came to 
preach at Fort Edward, the institute chapel was thronged 
to its capacity. It was Sunday evening, and the village 
churches dispensed with their regular services that they 
might listen to the venerable man, the eloquent Nestor, 
the dean of college presidents, who had been the honored 
and beloved president of Union for three generations. 

Co-Education 

At Fort Edward Institute, the proprieties were 
vigilantly and somewhat rigidly cared for by the admin- 
istration, as to social life. No scandals were permitted to 
occur. A few summary expulsions, not more than three 
in thirty-five years, of too-inconsiderately gallant young 
men, and the aid of sane and wholesome public opinion, 
sufficed to conserve decorum and order. 

The query arises, "Were there not courtships, engage- 
ments, and subsequent marriages occurring in the passing 
of the years and decades of the co-educational era?" This, 
perhaps, intrenches on the territory of sacred confidence, 
but the answer may be "Yes," and not seldom by royal 
permission and approval. Were it possible to present, at 
some future reunion, all the well-assorted, congenial couples 



BEGINNINGS AT FORT EDWARD 63 

that, if made at the Institute, yet were ratified in Heaven, 
the veteran principal might be warranted in adopting, as 
he introduced, the historic phrase of the proud Spartan 
mother, "These are my jewels." Very many, after their 
school days, followed up the beginnings of friendships in 
the Institute, and became founders of households else- 
where. One well-planned elopement was ruthlessly 
"nipped in the bud," the infatuated young lady being 
conveyed in a closed carriage, with the preceptress as 
duenna, "safely home to her father's house." 

A Typical Reunion 

During the co-educational period, a social reunion in 
the spacious dining hall of the earlier Institute was ob- 
served on the last evening of each term. Faculty and 
students, all were present. For anyone to be absent, ex- 
cept for serious illness, was regarded as offensively dis- 
loyal or "queer." 

By accession of young ladies from without for the even- 
ing, it happened that gallants and ladies were fairly well 
equal in number when the voluntary promenading began. 
Never was there permitted a solitary wallflower! The 
young ladies had their order cards for noting their en- 
gagements to march. At a signal of the bell, each gallant 
escorted his partner to a seat, took another in her place, 
and resumed the promenade. This program was repeated 
several times, giving variety to the social occasion. Last 
came the "Grand Change," when each gentleman at the 
tap of the bell, with pleasant word to his partner, stepped 
forward to become the escort of the young lady next in 
line. There were perhaps twenty changes, and then while 



64 A REMINISCENT BOOK 

all were standing, the Principal, in a brief address, ex- 
pressed his good wishes for the recess, and all joined in 
singing with fervor, 

"Together let us sweetly live 
Together let us die; 
And each a starry crown receive 
And reign above the sky." 



CHAPTER V 

A WONDERFUL DECADE 

Horace Greeley — Orator, Editor, National 
Benefactor 

In October, 1856, the presidential campaign was grow- 
ing warm; Buchanan or Fremont was the question. Tid- 
ings came to Fort Edward that Horace Greeley of the 
Tribune was to pass through the village and could tarry 
for an hour, giving an address if desired. The young 
men sprang to the front: the only public hall was secured 
and all people within a radius of two miles were informed 
by house-to-house canvass, "every member," of the 
opportunity of a lifetime to hear the great champion of 
free soil and free men. 

At four o'clock the hall was thronged to its capacity, so 
that on the arrival of the speaker it was with difficulty he 
could be pushed and pulled to the platform. Stumbling 
awkwardly to a seat, there was something grotesque in 
his aspect for a moment, and a bevy of Democratic young 
ladies giggled quite audibly, to the indignation of a giant 
constable, the only policeman in town, who loudly re- 
buked them and proposed that they be removed. But 
the chivalrous Greeley said, "No, I want them all to hear 
me." 

The appearance of Mr. Greeley was unique: his broad 
shoulders clad in a coat too large for him; a limp unlaun- 
dered turn-over collar; heavy spectacles on nose, with a 
head of a giant, bald at the dome, and abundant uncombed 

65 



66 A REMINISCENT BOOK 

locks on either side, a clean-shaven face, luxuriant whiskers 
beneath his chin and cheeks, a smile on his beaming 
features, childlike and bland. A more open countenance 
one never saw, a countenance on which candor and sincer- 
ity were most legibly stamped. On looking at him you 
thought of a full, round harvest moon. 

If on mounting his Pegasus we smiled at his awkward- 
ness, when he was in saddle we at once sat up and took 
notice, and as he rode on with a pace more and more 
vigorous, finally using whip and spur and making a terrific 
cavalry charge, we looked, listened, and wondered, our 
only fear that he would make an end. He began with 
slowly spoken sentences, in a somewhat drawling manner, 
and not without nasal twang, suggestive of the traditional 
Yankee backwoods orator (known so well to literature, 
but rarely seen in real life). Very shortly, however, he 
quickened his rate of utterance and put a heavier weight 
on his emphasis. Presently we gasped at a glancing 
epigram in which was lodged a catapult of truth. 

We were now made aware that it was a mighty man we 
were hearing. The platform which he commended was 
*' progressive " but "sane." "No more slave states," 
but the compromises of a Constitution must be respected. 
The Union must be preserved. For the hot-headed 
political Abolitionists, Garrison and Phillips, he had only 
tingling sarcasms. They were pestilential disturbers. 
The American people were patriotic enough and wise 
enough to meet new problems as they should arise, and in 
God's own good time, emancipation could come in a legal, 
orderly, and constitutional manner. We had all been 
involved in the introduction of slavery into the nation, 
and we should be willing to bear our part in devising and 



A WONDERFUL DECADE 67 

carrying out a constitutional policy for its elimination. 
Meanwhile let all good men stand together. 

Mr. Greeley's appeal to young men to cast their first 
vote for free soil and free men was luminous, forcible, 
eloquent and irresistible. So thought the writer, who 
though a hereditary and zealous Democrat, then and 
there decided to cast his vote for Fremont and Dayton. 

Henry Ward Beecher 
on the stump for fremont 

The National Republican Committee had given a date 
for Henry Ward Beecher to address a mass meeting at 
Fort Edward, where three counties, Washington, Warren, 
and Saratoga, centered, all peopled by New England 
Puritans and North of Ireland Scotch, notably intelligent 
and churchgoing. It was very literally a mass meeting, 
with an estimated assemblage of twenty thousand. 

Mr. Beecher arrived on time. As he rose to speak, 
his was an impressive figure — good to look at — in stature 
somewhat above the average man, arrayed in clerical black 
frockcoat, broad shouldered, massive head well set back, 
brown hair worn long, falling below his broad white collar, 
his expansive forehead, his large, generous mouth and 
mobile features, his luminous eyes, that seemed at times 
to look at and recognize each one of us, his superb health. 
His voice, for force, carrying power, buoyancy, mod- 
ulation, and unequaled distinctness of articulation, was a 
marvel to everyone that heard him on that September 
day. 

The slogan of the presidential campaign, "Free men, 
free speech, Fremont," was Mr. Beecher's text, on which 



68 A REMINISCENT BOOK 

for an hour and forty minutes, he held our utmost and 
sometimes breathless attention, in perhaps one of the 
greatest utterances of his life. Pastmaster in the use of 
faultless English, clear in statement, lucid and convincing 
in argument, himself inspired with a glow of patriotic 
fervor and reverent, joyous, religious enthusiasm, with 
the added impelling exuberance of his exhaustless youthful 
vitality, his discourse, at times enlivened with witty 
allusion or illustration, or emphasized and enforced by a 
startling epigram, more and more rose to a lofty height of 
resistless eloquence. 

He began: "The men of today are the makers of his- 
tory. This is the beginning of an epoch in the life of the 
nation. Two years ago the Republican party was organ- 
ized; it was a necessity of the times; the natural 
constituency of it was the anti-slavery Whigs, the anti- 
slavery Democrats, the Free Soil party, the remnant of 
the Knownothings, and such other unattached fragments 
as hated slavery." Then followed a statesmanlike 
discussion of the proposition — No more slave states, and 
the admission of Kansas to the Union unhandicapped, 
and in every acre of her virgin soil free now and for all 
time. 

His fervor growing every minute warmer, he presently 
divined that the interest and conviction of his sympa- 
thetic audience were becoming too painfully acute, and 
he determined to give them a moment's respite. Turn- 
ing to the venerable men seated on the platform, and 
assuming an amused colloquial tone, he said: "Our 
vigilant proslavery friends, the enemy, are inventive; 
when they fail to find a visible blemish in our gallant 
candidate they do not hesitate to imagine a calumny; we 




EARLY PHOTOGRAPH OF DR. KING 



A WONDERFUL DECADE 69 

promptly demonstrate its falsity, but it takes them some 
weeks to get over the habit of repeating it with variations. 
They remind me of a hunting dog I have. Discovering 
a woodchuck afield one day, he gave chase and followed 
him to his hole. Unaware that his would-be victim had 
escaped by another door of his den, what do you suppose 
that fool dog did.f^ Why, every day for a month he went 
barking fiercely at that same old hole." 

He expected the laugh that burst from uncounted thou- 
sands, as though Niagara had a paroxysm of mirth. 
Thereafter there was an occasional humorous paragraph 
or allusion serving both to enliven and humanize his 
argument, and to rivet attention. Not a word was lost, 
but the dominating character of his address was a pro- 
found earnestness. 

Finally he made his appeal directly to young men, and 
there were many hundreds of such who hung upon his 
every word. *Tt is unthinkable that you should hesitate. 
Ah, you are falling into line — there is the swing of victory 
in your tread — you will keep step to the music of 'liberty 
and Union.' " [Suppressed sobs of emotion. Ejacula- 
tions of "Yes, yes."] 

The speaker closed with a forecast of victory in the not 
far off future. God was on our side, or rather we were on 
the side of God. His face was ablaze with an exalted 
frenzy. So might the face of Isaiah have shone when he 
shouted to awakening Zion, "Arise, shine, for thy light 
has come, and the glory of the Lord is risen upon thee." 

For what seemed a full half-minute there was profound 
silence, then there rose a mighty voice of applause, with 
the waving of hats and of handkerchiefs, continuing for 
several minutes. Many pressed forward to greet the 



70 A REMINISCENT BOOK 

orator, but he had been quickly and quietly spirited 
away. 

On that day many recruits were made for the young 
Republican party. 

The Civil War 

Of those who from the Institute enlisted in the Union 
Army, and of those also who became our students after 
a two-year service in the army, there were ninety-seven, 
and three went home to enlist on the Confederate side. 
Some became colonels and captains; and no less than 
twenty-five of our students died on the battlefield or in 
hospitals. One student, Reuben M. Preston, of Panama, 
New York, for his exceptional intelligence and alertness 
was detailed to the signal service. His ardent patriotism 
was not content there, for soon he wrote me that he had 
enlisted as a soldier, and desired to go to the front. He 
begged me to write to Hon. Preston King, at that time 
United States Senator from New York, to use his influence 
to be put where he could do his share of the fighting. His 
request was granted and a few weeks later he was killed 
while at the front by the side of Col. James H. Dandy, 
Jr., of Perth Amboy, New Jersey, who had been his class- 
mate at the Institute. 

Visits to the Front in '61 and '62 

In July of 1861, availing myself of a newspaper pass 
on the railway, I resolved to see something of the war. 
I arrived at Chicago on a Saturday evening and spent 
Sunday there. Sunday afternoon, telegraphic tidings 
were coming of the battle of Bull Run. For hours I 
stood with thousands intensely watching the bulletin 



A WONDERFUL DECADE 71 

board. The sternness of the faces as we read of defeat, 
our beaten forces retreating into Washington! I felt 
with those thousands an awful baptism of patriotic frenzy. 
It was no surprise on the next day to read that Congress 
had appropriated millions, and authorized the call for 
500,000 volunteers. No "copperhead" dared to hiss, or, 
if he did, he was smitten to the ground. 

For the whole of Monday, seated in the baggage car 
with open door, as we whizzed over measureless acres 
of green growing corn, I perused the broad landscape, 
and thought deeply of the mighty Civil W^ar, no longer 
a holiday parade, or a walk-over victory. Thousands of 
new troops were gathering in Cairo, Illinois. I saw them 
parading and being drilled. The steady perusal of the 
wide stretches of prairie for hours had temporarily 
destroyed my sense of proportion; the soldiers seemed 
undersized, almost midget. 

No room was to be had in the hotel. A bright 
man of my own age, seeing my trouble, accosted me. 
''Professor King, you once rendered me a great favor. 
This is my time to reciprocate; you must be my guest." 
This friend in need proved to be a reporter for the New 
York Herald. He had recently won his spurs and was 
in high favor. 

When the great senator, Stephen A. Douglas, the 
former political antagonist of President Lincoln (but when 
Sumter was fired on, also his pronounced friend and 
ally) lay on his dying bed in Chicago, the whole nation 
anxiously seeking daily bulletins as to his condition, 
this astute reporter was able to telegraph exclusively to 
the Herald three columns of an authorized interview, 
telling how the dying statesman rejected with thanks 



72 A REMINISCENT BOOK 

the ministrations of a Roman Catholic prelate, declaring 
that he died in the faith of his Puritan fathers, and de- 
manding that his children be brought up in this faith. 
In the natural journalistic pride of the Herald over this 
exclusive story, the young reporter found himself in posses- 
sion of a check for three hundred dollars and a handsome 
new rig — horse and buggy — all his own. 

On Tuesday morning in company with my Herald 
friend we crossed the broad junction of rivers in a launch, 
and saw on the Mississippi shore the ceremony of the 
presentation by a group of ladies of a fine silk banner 
to a regiment of new volunteers. Alas, how many of 
those gallant young men were to give their precious lives 
that a nation might not perish! 

In the autumn of 1862, with Professor Seaman A. 
Knapp, I got a nearer view of the actual and awful aspect 
of the great Civil War. It was two days after the battle 
of Antietam; we lingered in the cornfield which had thrice 
been lost and won, beside the fresh-made graves of hun- 
dreds. Then we came to the wide stretch of temporized 
hospital tents, where other hundreds, friend and foe 
alike, were ministered to by surgeons and nurses. How 
still they all were, — not a groan was heard from any. 
That night we slept in a Fort Edward tent with David 
Harvey King, my brother, a hospital steward, and the 
McCoy brothers, young oflacers. We were shown their 
garments, pierced by death-dealing balls. 

We found Washington city a gloomy hospital camp, 
many cots in the Patent Oflfice building. A somewhat 
distant glimpse of the profoundly sad but determined 
face of the great Lincoln, and we had no heart to linger 
longer. 



A WONDERFUL DECADE 73 

In 1863, the returning Twenty-second Regiment, after 
its two years of service, was welcomed, the remnant of it, 
by a great throng of villagers. By request of the author- 
ities, I made the address of welcome. 

On the death of Lincoln I made the funeral oration at 
the Methodist Episcopal Church. 

Sonnet to Abraham Lincoln 

Of humble parentage, log-cabin born, 
Yet Nature reared him on a generous plan. 
Stalwart and tall an upright Godly man. 
Nor school nor college his, but not forlorn 
He laughs unkind environment to scorn. 
Alone, untaught, his statesman's course began; 
His motto this, "They can who think they can." 
What loftiest station might he not adorn! 
His mission came, the Nation's life to save 
And dash the fetters off from every slave! 
His name to hand to future ages down 
Alas! that he must wear a martyr's crown. 
Our epoch knows no worthier, wiser, greater 
Than Abraham Lincoln, the emancipator. 



CHAPTER VI 
CONFERENCE EXPERIENCES 

General Conference of 1856 

My only prolonged absences from the daily and regular 
duties of administration and instruction (having never 
less and often more than three daily classes) were my three 
General Conferences, requiring delegates to be present 
for the month of May. 

In 1856, at Indianapolis, I was a delegate from Ver- 
mont Conference. While too youthful to take a leading 
part, I had my say as to the correction of boundary lines 
between the Vermont and the Troy conferences; and it 
was stimulating to be in touch with men at the front, 
such as Dr. Thomas Carlton, long-time publishing agent 
of the church. Dr. Dempster, founder of the first Theolog- 
ical Institute, Dr. John B. Durbin, the great missionary 
secretary, Dr. John McClintock, the readiest and most 
scholarly orator and debater of that conference. This 
General Conference formally approved the new theolog- 
ical schools, and expressed itself very decidedly against 
slave-holding by church members. 

Peter Cartwright, a unique character who had gained 
celebrity as a pioneer, and who had been in his day an 
acknowledged leader of the church, was there. His 
knowledge of human nature and his ready wit supplied 
the lack of hterary culture. In debate he was pithy and 
again humorous. It is related of him, in his earliest 
ministry, that while seated in his pulpit by the side of a 



CONFERENCE EXPERIENCES 75 

presiding elder who was to preach, the elder said in a whis- 
per, "That is General Jackson who has just come in." 
Answered the young pastor so as to be heard by the au- 
dience, "Who is General Jackson? Unless he repents 
of his sins, God will damn him as soon as He would a 
Guinea nigger." He and Jackson became fast friends. 
At a session of his annual conference, he was solemnly 
asked by Bishop Hamlin, who reproved him for setting 
his brethren into a paroxysm of laughter during debate, 
"Brother Cartwright, do you believe you are growing in 
grace?" Cartwright answered, after whimsically looking 
himself over, "Yes, Bishop, in spots!" 

At this conference there came to me a pretty booklet 
in Hiawathian verse, rehearsing the situation at the 
Institute, humorously, but in a loyal spirit, to my no 
little edification in my prolonged absence. 

A Broken Axle; A Speaking Experience 

It had so happened that I preached in great St. James 
Wesleyan Church, Montreal, donning for the first time 
in my life the Episcopal gown. The appreciative con- 
gregation remembered me, and I was asked to speak to 
them on their missionary platform in December of the 
following year. 

Arriving at Rutland at 8 p. m., I walked leisurely along 
with the conductor to the hotel. I sat warming myself; 
it was bitter cold. Presently I said to the conductor, 
"How soon do we start for Burlington?" "Tomorrow 
morning at 8 o'clock." "But I must be at Burlington 
at 9 a. m. tomorrow!" "We can do nothing for you 
tonight, " he replied. "Well, tell me of the best livery in 
Rutland. " 



76 A REMINISCENT BOOK 

I secured a top buggy, drawn by two Morgan mares, 
the driver a typical Vermonter, alert, resourceful, reliable. 
Though I had left good sleighing in Fort Edward, the 
ground was bare in Rutland, and frozen like a rock. 
Borrowing a wolf-robe coat and cap, I greatly enjoyed the 
thirty miles to Brandon, accomplished in less than three 
hours. My exceptional Jehu, after getting his ten dollars, 
volunteered to send a livery man to me, who would convey 
me to Burlington in time to connect with another train. 
He had first to feed his horses, which consumed another 
hour. Then there arrived a covered buggy, with a pair 
of unpromising horses, the driver a lank, overgrown boy 
of seventeen. We started. The pace was too tardy, the 
weather colder. "Whip up, my boy!" I said. So he 
did, and as we were whirling down a long slope on the 
edge of Ferrisburg, snap! went the forward axle-tree on 
both sides. I was heavily jarred, but not hurt ; and though 
the boy was dragged from his seat, he contrived to hold 
on to the horses, sniveling and swearing at the same time. 
I said, "Stop that! Be thankful that your useless life has 
been spared. Follow me to the hotel yonder!" After 
a chilly walk of a mile, I found the hotel, and the landlord 
shaving himself before a mirror. "We have broken 
down en route to Burlington. I must be there for the 
9 a. m. train. Will you take me?" "Yes," said he, "I 
was going elsewhere, but that can wait." "If you con- 
nect, you may make your own terms; if we fail, you must 
be reasonable with me." He called to the barn across 
the street. "Put in Old John!" Then to me, "Step 
into the dining room, and get a cup of hot coffee and 'a 
bite'." 

Meanwhile my disgusted boy arrived, and I allowed 



CONFERENCE EXPERIENCES 77 

him six dollars for his ineffective service. When "Old 
John " warmed up, ah ! how he sped over the frozen ground. 
We got in sight of Burhngton. "Suppose," said I, "we 
break down, and are not hurt?" "Then," said he, "I 
will put you on Old John and you can connect." We 
dashed to the station. An engine was under steam. 
"How soon do you start for Montreal.''" "In five min- 
utes." "Well," said I to my efficient Vermont Jehu, 
"We have connected; how much?" "I guess," said he, 
"that three dollars is about right." By him I shipped 
back my wolf -coat and cap. 

In the great missionary meeting I had a freer time by 
virtue of my night ride. I could illustrate how an inter- 
rupting casualty may make surer your connection. Had 
not the axle broken, I should not have connected. I 
reported optimistically for the Methodist Missionary cause 
and the vigorous growth of the Church. "Our rivals 
might be glad to bury us, and if they could they might 
make fitting use of the Frenchman's epitaph to his wife: 

"Beneath this stone my wife doth lie. 
She is at rest, and so am I." 

A converted Indian chief shared my honors on the 
platform. 

The General Conference of '64 

The General Conference of 1864 at Philadelphia was 
held during a period of great civic excitement. The con- 
ference adjourned for a day of fasting and prayer for the 
Union cause. To the committee sent by the Conference 
to assure Mr. Lincoln of the determination of both min- 
isters and members of the Methodist Episcopal Church 



78 A REMINISCENT BOOK 

to sustain the government by their prayers and by every 
effort in their power, the President replied, "Nobly sus- 
tained as the government has been by all the churches, 
I would utter nothing which might in the least appear 
invidious against any, yet, without this, it may be fairly 
said that the Methodist Episcopal Church, not less 
devoted than the rest, is by its great numbers the most 
important of all. It is no fault that the Methodist 
Episcopal Church sends more soldiers to the field, more 
nurses to the hospitals, and more prayers to Heaven 
than any. God bless the Methodist Episcopal Church — 
God bless all the churches." 

Episode in General Conference of 1864 

We had elected three bishops: Clark, Thompson, and 
Kingsley. Daniel Curry was chosen editor of the Chris- 
tian Advocate to succeed Doctor Thompson, made bishop. 

The patriotic fervor of the General Conference was 
relieved somewhat by pausing for a day of fasting and 
prayer. In the church appointed for a public service, 
the giants of the Conference mightily wrestled in prayer 
to the God of nations to bless the Federal armies and 
give victory to the cause of liberty and the Union. In 
the same week, while all our nerves were tense with 
excitement and anxiety, occurred a dramatic episode that 
made the Conference of 1864 memorable to all who wit- 
nessed it. While the routine business was in progress, 
at about eleven o'clock there arose in front and near the 
platform, an eminent and distinguished delegale, his 
aspect stern and militant— so might an angry Roman 
senator have looked. It was Dr. John A. Collins, of 
Baltimore Conference. "Mr. President," he said, "I 



CONFERENCE EXPERIENCES 79 

rise to a question of privilege." "Dr. Collins will state 
what is the question of privilege." "I am credibly 
informed, sir, that a fellow-member of this General 
Conference has imputed to me disloyalty to our govern- 
ment which is struggling for its life against an armed 
rebellion." After a pause — "I demand to know whether 
the attitude of this person has been correctly reported." 

A pause of ten seconds, awful silence, then, still nearer 
the platform, arose the colossal figure of Colonel Moody, 
of Ohio, the fighting parson. Looking balefully at his 
questioner, and in a low but most distinct voice, with a 
deliberate and emphatic accent, he replied, "Mr. Presi- 
dent, the imputation of disloyalty for which an explana- 
tion is demanded occurred in a confidential conversation 
of gentlemen and was not designed for the public ear; 
but as the gentleman demands a public answer to this 
question, I do not hesitate to give it. That imputation of 
disloyalty was my private opinion, and it is now publicly 
expressed, and I accept the responsibility." There was 
the stillness of the grave for what seemed a half moment. 
Then on each of the pale cheeks of the Baltimore delegate 
flashed a spot of red. With constrained and yet vehe- 
ment earnestness he said, "I have, sir, in my pocket at 
this moment a letter from the Secretary of War, personally 
thanking me for important services I have been able to 
render for the national cause in these perilous times." 
Both were standing not two yards apart looking malig- 
nantly at €ach other. 

And now came a miracle. The whole Conference and 
the vast audience that filled the church broke into the 
most frenzied clapping and cheering, thus proclaiming 
their confidence in the calumniated man and their reproof 



80 A REMINISCENT BOOK 

to his accuser. Colonel Moody held his head bowed in 
acceptance of his punishment and in unspoken apology 
to the man he had mistakenly assailed. Bishop Janes 
vigorously pounded the table with his gavel, but the 
uproar grew the louder; then another colossal figure arose 
and shouted with a clarion voice, "Mr. President." The 
uproar was suspended. "Mr. President, there are times 
in which some apparent disorder may be the highest 
possible type of order, and this is such a time." One 
more brief outburst; the contestants smiled upon each 
other; not an additional word was spoken. The incident 
was closed and the business of the Conference resumed. 

Some of us thought that for that timely act of consum- 
mate leadership, Jesse T. Peck should have been made 
bishop then and there. 

During this period of absence the administration of 
the Institute was in charge of my brother. Professor 
James Marcus King, and his wisdtm, discretion, and tact 
wholly safeguarded the situation. 

General Conference of '68 

The General Conference of 1868, at Chicago, elected 
no bishop, though four vacancies were to occur during 
the ensuing quadrennium. This conference reaffirmed 
its willingness to admit lay delegates when the laity of the 
church should express by their vote a desire for it. 

The address of the official representative of the British 
Wesleyan Church, Rev. Dr. William M. Punshon, was 
marvelously eloquent, and made a deep impression upon 
the conference, showing him well equipped for his emi- 
nence. The morning of the address being cloudy and dark, 
he made tactful use of the traditional story of the phenom- 



CONFERENCE EXPERIENCES 81 

enally dark day during the constitutional convention in 
Connecticut. One excited member, believing the world 
was coming to an end, moved to adjourn. The president 
of the conference refused to put the motion, saying, "If 
this is to be the last day of earth, let us be found at the 
post of duty. Light the candles, and let the business 
proceed!" 

I heard also the masterful address of Doctor Punshon 
in the chapel of the Northwestern University at Evanston, 
111. Pleading for classical culture he said, "Will the well- 
tempered broadsword cut less keenly if there be jewels 
in its hilt.'^" 

The Annual Conferences 

Admitted a probationer to the Vermont Annual Con- 
ference in 1848, I was requested to make a missionary 
address on the evening of that anniversary. Bishop 
Hamline, presiding, was impressed with the scope and 
spirit of that maiden speech of mine, and said to the elder 
in the cabinet, "There is a vacancy in a large church 
in Cincinnati; that is the man to fill it. I shall appoint 
him to the place." Those cabinet elders, being trustees 
of Newbury Seminary, took alarm and begged me to allow 
my name to be withdrawn for a year so as to get rid of the 
bishops' hand. Consenting to their request, I was able 
to keep my engagement to be principal of the Seminary, 
but I lost a year's growth in the Conference. 

That Conference made me their official visitor to Wes- 
leyan University, and since 1848 I have had a voice and 
a vote in the Board of Trustees of my alma mater, never 
being absent from an annual meeting, except one 
summer when I was abroad. In 1850, in addition to 
my office as principal, I had charge of outlying appoint- 



82 A REMINISCENT BOOK 

ments in the vicinity of Newbury, My first sermon was 
delivered in the rural church in South Newbury; my 
second in the Methodist Episcopal church in the village 
before the faculty and students. I had written out my 
discourse. After reading for perhaps five minutes, I 
lost my place and was aware that I was getting confused. 
I therefore laid the manuscript aside, and went on with 
greater freedom without it. Since that day I have never 
taken even a brief with me to any pulpit. 

In 1857, on request of the Troy Conference, my mem- 
bership was transferred to that Conference. In neither 
of these Conferences have I once been absent at the open- 
ing roll-call, nor in the sixty-five years have I been out 
of my seat in the Conference beyond a day, observing 
every feature of the Conference business, taking my share 
of committee work, having my say in any important 
debate, paying each year my brotherly tribute to the 
fallen soldiers of the Lord, and always giving my testi- 
mony in the Sunday morning Conference love feast, join- 
ing heartily and joyfully in the singing of the hymns of 
lofty cheer. Four times I have been assigned as counsel 
for the defense in church trials before the court of the 
Conference, and in each trial the brother arraigned was 
unanimously acquitted and vindicated. 

A Conference brother who had served rural charges 
acceptably for more than thirty years, was arraigned, 
tried, and expelled from the Conference and from the 
church for the atrocious offense of stealing fifty dollars 
awarded by the Conference committee on claims to the 
widow of a deceased superannuate. An appeal being 
made to the General Committee in 1860, a new trial was 
authorized. While sitting in my ofl&ce at the Institute, one 



CONFERENCE EXPERIENCES 83 

morning in March, 1861, a young man sought an inter- 
view. It was the son of the discredited minister. "My 
father is an innocent man; you can prove it if you will 
consent to become his counsel. The humiliation of his 
expulsion from the Conference is destroying the family — 
mother is nigh unto death, I have left college. Will 
you not consent to conduct our case in the new trial?" 
I had, meanwhile, been thinking over what I knew of the 
former trial, and a feasible plan for his father's vindica- 
tion flashed into my mind. "Yes," I said, " I believed 
your father innocent, and I will do my best for him." 
The son had said, "We can establish an alibi proving 
that father, on the morning of the distribution of the 
money for conference claimants, was absent from the 
seat of Conference, visiting the Shakers." The thought 
occurred to me, "Why were the sole alleged witnesses 
of the taking of the widow's money either past middle 
age or aged men.^^" A cross-examination of those honest 
aged men will demonstrate their incompetency as wit- 
nesses. 

The alibi was shown to be positively true, but lacked 
something of demonstration. The inability of the coun- 
sel for the Conference to prove by any other witnesses 
than those few aged men, the taking of the widow's 
money at the Pittsfield Conference, left the result of the 
appeal depending on the cross-examination of those few 
direct witnesses. For more than ten years the entire 
Conference knew that the expelled brother was accus- 
tomed to receive the widow's award when the money was 
distributed, and they knew from the former trial that the 
deceased superannuate, in his dying hour, had commended 
his family to his care. The cross-examination showed 



84 A REMINISCENT BOOK 

that the most aged brother was incompetent from failing 
memory: "What was the weather on the morning of the 
opening of the Pittsburgh Conference?" "Why it was a 
pleasant morning." (We all knew that it was a drench- 
ing rain, and some had brought rubbers.) "Who pre- 
sided at the Conference?" "It was Bishop Ames — no, 
it was Bishop Baker." "Who was the secretary of that 
conference?" "I disremember." " On which side of the 
church was the accused brother when, as you say, you 
saw him take the widow's money?" "Why, on the north 
aisle." "You are certain of your recollection of that?" 
"Yes." The others saw him on the south aisle. The 
three other witnesses, being honest men, were each com- 
pelled to acknowledge that they had a prejudice against 
the expelled brother. "Why, Brother S., could you think 
the accused brother capable of taking the widow's 
mone3^'^" "He had wronged me when we were colleagues 
in dividing the donations." "Brother W., had you any 
prejudice against the accused man?" "Well, I had en- 
gaged to sell a set of Clark's Commentaries to a lady, and 
the accused brother slipped in and sold a set, thus getting 
the commission." "Dr. S., why did you say to me yes- 
terday, 'Professor, why do you undertake to defend that 
scoundrel.? — I would not trust him as far as you could 
throw a dog across the creek?'" "Well, you have a right 
to my answer. It was psychological, I saw in his face 
that he was a dishonest man." These four were honest 
men; they had seen the accused take the widow's money 
year after year, and, their prejudice having unconsciously 
affected their perception and memory, they testified that 
they saw him take the money at the Pittsfield Conference. 
The fifty dollars had been anonymously returned to the 



CONFERENCE EXPERIENCES 85 

widow, with interest, by the unknown thief. My client 
was unanimously acquitted and installed, and lived for 
twenty-six years thereafter, having the confidence and 
love of his brethren. His wife was killed by the cruel 
three years of ignominy that his expulsion from the Con- 
ference had brought to the family. 

My other Conference lawsuits involved issues of veracity 
and alleged maladministration, and all were gained 
by my clients. 

At the Pittsfield Conference, in 1878, a telegram an- 
nounced the death of Bishop Ames, and the president of 
the Conference, Bishop Foster, called upon me to lead the 
conference in praj^er. 

At the Burling Conference, in 1880, I made, by request, 
a brief memorial address in honor of Bishop Haven. 

Soon after the death of my college classmate. Bishop 
E. G. Andrews, I presented a brief memorial to him at the 
request of the Albany preacher's institute. 

In recent years, the bishop has appointed me to 
preside at special services of the Conference, and I have 
considered it very considerate of the brethren that they 
have accepted me. No disorderly friskiness occurred 
during my brief administration. 

For over forty years the courtesy has been permitted 
me of nominating the Conference Secretary, and moving 
the rules of order, and from 1872 the delicate and diflScult 
role of necrologist was assigned me. While serving for a 
decade as president of the Troy Conference Life Assur- 
ence Association, there was published in the Conference 
minutes a contribution of mine in verse. 



CHAPTER VII 
A VACATION ABROAD 

On the ocean liner City of Boston, under Captain Leiteh, 
I took passage for a two-months' tour, in the expectation 
of sharing my stateroom with a college friend and Psi 
Upsilon brother, who did not arrive. There was not a 
soul on board with whom I had a speaking acquaintance. 

Quite unafraid, I proceeded to enjoy my first sea voyage. 
Having a seat at the captain's table, there was no lack of 
vivacious conversation. The surgeon was delightfully 
humorous. One day, while walking the deck, I had a 
delightful surprise — a former Newbury student, B. Frank 
Stevens, greeted me warmly. He had gained an important 
position in London, that of American Despatch Agent, 
and had been taking his fair young London wife to visit 
his parents in Vermont. I was duly presented, and the 
Stevens not only gave a cheerful aspect to my voyage, 
but they called in London, and extended some delightful 
hospitalities. 

July 4th Celebration 

The supreme event of my voyage was the spirited and 
successful celebration, by some scores of American pas- 
sengers, of our national anniversary, July fourth, mid-sea. 
Taking with me an intelligent young merchant from 
Philadelphia, Mr. Bonsell, whose acquaintance I had 
made, we, a self-appointed committee, waited on Captain 
Leiteh, who was British, to learn if the American passen- 
gers might celebrate our American anniversary after our 



A VACATION ABROAD 87 

own fashion. He responded, "Certainly, gentlemen, 
the City of Boston is yours for the day." 

I had thoughtfully provided from Appleton's a copy 
of the Declaration of Independence, the only copy on 
board. 

After the mid-day meal, I announced the permit so 
graciously given by the Captain, and called to the chair 
Edwin Stoughton, Esq., of New York, who proceeded 
to announce and introduce the themes and speakers as 
fully arranged by us. He had made, on taking the chair, 
a brief but eloquent address, and tactfully considerate 
that half a dozen gentlemen of the company were promi- 
nent Confederates, said, "Today we are all Americans, 
and all join heartily and harmoniously in celebrating our 
one great national anniversary." The program was as 
follows : 

1. Reading of the Declaration of Independence 

By Mr. Sterling Bonsell 
(Well read, with some elimination out of considera- 
tion of our British captain.) 

2. "The Day we Celebrate." 

By Clarence Seward of New York 
(A cultured and witty, as well as patriotic, response. 
He did not forget to suggest that, as we were "half 
seas over," a reasonable allowance should be made 
for any slips in oratory.) 

3. "His Excellency the President of the United States — 

Andrew Johnson" 
By Colonel John Hay, Charge d'Affaires to Austria 
(to which embassy he was travelling. He spoke 
diplomatically and sensibly about standing by our 
agents (cheers). This superb young American 
I had personal talk with. He was afterward Sec- 



88 A REMINISCENT BOOK 

retary of State for two administrations, and notably 
was the author of the policy of the open door to 
China.) 
Song — Hail, Columbia. 

4. "Her Majesty Queen Victoria" 

Responded to by Dr. Hallett, the surgeon 
(in a scholarly and rollicking speech, with cheers.) 
Song — God save the Queen. Tune : America. 

5. "The Flag" 

By Brigadier General Singleton of New York 

6. "The Men of the American Revolution" 

By Joseph E. King of Fort Edward, New York 
(When he closed his speech with "Thank God in 
our day has been made good the prophetic dream 
of the Declaration, there are no slaves in all our 
broad land" there were vigorous cheers.) 
Song — Yankee Doodle. 

7. "The Press" 

By F. S. Whittlesey, Esq., of Rochester, N. Y. 
Song — We Won't Go Home until Morning. 

8. "The Ladies" 

By Dr. Doremus of New York (afterward very eminent) 
Mingled elegance and buffoonery (cheers). 
Song — by Cavanagh, "Uncle Ned" with variations. 

9. "Westward the Star of Empire" 

By Colonel Butlick of Wisconsin 

The wind-up was a Kalathumpian parade with all 
possible improvised instruments. 

The Confederate gentlemen had been quite swept oflF 
their feet by the flood of genuine patriotism which 
characterized the celebration. 

I had a charming visit with Mr. Blount, a lawyer of 
Alabama, and on our last day together, Dr. Eve, a sur- 



A VACATION ABROAD 89 

geon in the Confederate army, sought an interview to 
propose resolutions of appreciation to the Captain, oflBcers, 
and crew of the steamer. "Yes, by all means. Doctor, 
and you yourself must prepare the resolutions." 

Rising near the close of the mid-day meal, I asked the 
attention of the company. "Ladies and gentlemen, the 
pleasant sight this morning of the wished-for land has 
turned our thoughts to the benign providence that has 
assured our safety, and we can but have kind thoughts 
also to the instruments of that providence, the oflBcers 
and crew of the good steamship City of Boston. I have 
asked Dr. Eve to give suitable expression to our thought 
on this occasion. I call Mr. Stoughton to the chair." 

The doctor, a middle aged-gentleman of fine presence, 
stood forth, and read with fervent emphasis his three reso- 
lutions. After remembering courtesies came the second 
resolution, "that the noble conduct and generous spirit 
exhibited by Captain Leitch on the Fourth of July, the 
national day of our beloved country, and his sympathy, 
on that occasion, with everything American, call for the 
expression of our sincerest thanks, and best wishes for 
the continued success and prosperity of his excellent 
steamer." All the resolutions were most heartily ap- 
plauded, particularly this. 

On rising to respond, the Captain was evidently greatly 
moved, tears were streaming down his cheeks. When he 
could recover himself he said, "Ladies and gentlemen, I 
have had many happy days, but before God I declare 
that that Fourth of July was the happiest day of my life.** 
Ah, how our hearts burned and flowed together — British, 
or American, Union or Confederate — we were consciously 
one grateful, happy family ! 



90 A REMINISCENT BOOK 

We reached the dock at midnight. There my trunk 
was grabbed by a burly Irishman, who plunged into a 
dark street with it, though I had not given the order, 
making, as he had said, for the Queen 's Hotel. Absolutely 
alone, I accepted the situation as an adventure — keeping 
my right hand, however, on a pistol that had been given 
me by Remington on the occasion of his wedding — and — 
nothing happened. I found myself let in the hotel, and 
greeted hospitably by the night clerk. My Irishman was 
dismissed with his shilling. 

Spurgeon and the Tabernacle 

I had started early, but to my surprise and chagrin the 
iron gate was closed with "No admittance" on the plac- 
ard. By a vigorous gesture, I called to the gate a young 
man. "I must get in," I said, "I have come three thou- 
sand miles to hear Mr. Spurgeon." "Are you connected 
with the press?" "Certainly, I report for an American 
journal." "Well," he said, "some missionaries will be 
sent out to their work soon, and then you can be admit- 
ted." Meanwhile the vast congregation was lifting up its 
voice in song; then came forth the missionary heralds, 
and I found myself within the gates of Zion. 

I stood against the wall inside, only too happy to have 
that privilege. The prayer ended, and I observed ten 
seats in front a lady standing and beckoning to me to 
come for a seat. I raised my hand in protest, when she 
made me understand that she could find a seat for her- 
self. I gratefully took the place vacated for me. There 
was British hospitahty! 

Doctor Spurgeon was in high health, and in joyful, 
reverent tones and with perfect articulation, for a full 



A VACATION ABROAD 91 

hour poured forth his gospel message. Every one of the 
six thousand eager Hsteners could hear it. 

A section of the church were to receive communion — 
"The stranger within our gates is cordially invited." 
Passing to the near egress, I said, "But I am a Methodist." 
"Brother, you are welcome," and a ticket was placed in 
my hand. I passed in and partook of the bread and wine 
with my Baptist brethren, and have loved them all better 
ever since. 

The afternoon I gave to a visit to the venerable church 
and rectory where Mr. Wesley closed his labors. Yes, 
this little seven by nine corner room was his study. From 
these books he had forged the messages that had so power- 
fully moved England and America. The world, indeed 
was his parish ! And here adjacent was the room where he 
uttered his last word: "The best of all, God is with us!" 

Bunyan's Grave 

Sunday afternoon, while returning from the Wesley 
shrine, we came to an open and well-kept cemetery lot. 
I stepped in; it was Bunnel Field. I was quite alone. 
No; presently there entered a lady and her little girl, 
carrying a wreath. Ah, I thought, death is ever with us. 
I saw the girl place her wreath upon a grave. When they 
had passed on and out, I went to the grave they had 
decorated. It was that of John Bunyan, who had died 
three hundred years ago. This, I thought, has a flavor 
of immortality. 

Paris: Emperor's Fete 

August 10 was the Emperor's fete day; I waited to take 
it in. A fanfarade of guns and trumpets at an early hour 



92 A REMINISCENT BOOK 

started a general movement of soldiers. Half a dozen 
theatres ran throughout the day, free to all comers, and 
were thronged by the employe class and peasants. The 
Rue Roi de Rome was said to be the storm centre of the 
carousal. On either side, the street was lined with hun- 
dreds of booths. It was estimated that two hundred thous- 
and people occupied a great square that sloped to the 
river. At the base was a vast stage, on which appeared 
at short intervals pantomime performances — romantic 
acts with many gestures and contortions — then music, 
then evolutions of soldiers, and again pantomime. 

Weary at nightfall I returned, via the Arc d 'Triomphe, 
which blazed with thousands of gas jets, and the entire 
Champs filysees was illumined with gas jets six inches 
apart. Two things amazed me — first the perfect order 
that prevailed, — I had seen no moment of friction, no one 
jostled, no arrests and no occasion for the service of in- 
visible policemen. Second, the solid absence of enthu- 
siasm, no cheering for the costly entertainments provided 
for the people at the expense of the sovereign; no shout 
of vive V Emperor from any throat, from morning till mid- 
night. 

Four years later, when Paris looked on with almost 
grim complacency at the pantomime of two nations in 
combat, with their Emperor in prison, and Eugenie on her 
way to exile, I remembered their astounding irrespon- 
siveness at the Emperor's fete in 1867. 




DR. KING IN HIS OFFICE 



CHAPTER VIII 

SOME MEN THAT IMPRESSED ME 

Horatio Seymour — Democrat, Governor, Presiden- 
tial Nominee 

In Onondaga County, N. Y., in 1810, Horatio Sey- 
mour was born. His higher education was acquired at 
Oxford and Geneva academies and at Captain Alden 
Partridge's American Literary, Scientific and Military 
Academy at Middletown, Conn., whose buildings and 
grounds became a little later the home of Wesleyan Uni- 
versity. 

Admitted to the bar at twenty-two, though having a 
large inheritance to care for, he chose to devote his elegant 
leisure to politics. He was elected Mayor of Utica, and 
was repeatedly sent to the Legislature. 

At the age of twenty-seven Mr. Seymour was Speaker 
of the Assembly of Albany. He had thus rare opportu- 
nities for personal acquaintance with the leading politicians 
and for the study of statecraft, in which he became a past 
master. Probably no man had a better knowledge of the 
history and the resources of New York than Mr. Sey- 
mour. An ardent admirer of Jackson and Van Buren, 
he became the champion of Democracy, and was in de- 
mand for many platforms as an able, eloquent, and con- 
vincing public speaker, however specious and disingenuous 
some might be disposed to regard his arguments. 

In the presidential campaign of 1860 he had depre- 
cated the possible election of Lincoln as a calamity. 

93 



94 A REMINISCENT BOOK 

The better way was to settle the threatening breach with 
our Southern brethren by a patriotic compromise. We 
were slaveholders once, and consequently responsible for 
the present unhappy condition. Let the North purchase 
the freedom of all the slaves. Was not such a course wiser 
and better than a war which would cost hundreds of mil- 
lions more, besides thousands of precious lives of our own 
kinsmen.'* 

This was the burden of his speech before an immense mass 
meeting on "the island" at Fort Edward. He presented 
his argument with great vigor and with unsurpassed 
eloquence — he appealed to hundreds of farmers in the 
audience to be broad-minded and to save the nation from 
a fratricidal war. " Let us remember that we be brethren ! " 

As a group of us, several ladies of the faculty of Fort 
Edward Institute and myself, were returning from the 
island after hearing the address, his carriage overtook us on 
the bridge. We had met at university convocations and he 
recognized me, stopped his carriage and alighted, warmly 
greeted me, and on being presented to the ladies begged 
permission to take the ladies to the Institute in his car- 
riage — such a chivalrous gentleman was Governor Sey- 
mour! 

His extraordinary conversational power I had dis- 
covered at the convocation receptions at Albany. A favor- 
ite theme was the composite character of the citizenship 
of the state, suggesting to him a resultant manhood that 
should surpass anything in the world. 

Despite his optimistic theory of a peaceful solution of 
the pending unpleasantness, when Sumter was fired on 
and the Civil War actually began, Seymour unhesitatingly 
declared for upholding the Union cause with armed bat- 



SOME MEN THAT IMPRESSED ME 95 

talions, and was greatly influential in raising recruits for 
the army, and, under the glamour of these patriotic ac- 
tivities, was elected Governor in 1862. 

Eloquence of Bishop Simpson 

As Mont Blanc among the foot-hills, so Bishop Simpson 
towered above his contemporaries as the master pulpit 
orator of his generation. His oratory was simple and 
natural, acceptable alike to the learned and unlearned. 
With a handsome personal presence, and a somewhat 
musical voice, sympathetic and penetrating, his style was 
not without a tendency of monotonous sing-song. Not 
unfrequently he could launch an allusion or a sentence 
of surpassing beauty, and when the heavenly afflatus 
came on him he was irresistible and overwhelming. Such 
was his marvelous mastery over the eight thousand 
Chicago and Evanston people, assembled at the Des 
Plaines Camp Meeting, who at times almost held their 
breath lest they might lose a sentence or a word from the 
lips of this inspired prophet of God. 

Dr. Bannister, of the Theological School, and myself, 
so great was the throng in the vast auditorium, had re- 
treated to the rude board tent, or lodging place for min- 
isters in the rear of the preacher's stand. The text was 
announced: "This is the victory that overcometh the 
world, even our faith." The unimpressionable and 
severely critical doctor, once principal at Cazenovia, 
threw himself back on the couch in disappointment and 
vexation. We had both heard this sermon before, and 
now had we come so far only to listen to a twice-told tale? 

Before ten sentences were spoken, the stern doctor 
rose to a sitting posture; a moment later he sprang to 



96 A REMINISCENT BOOK 

his feet, and stood, tense and strained in his eagerness to 
catch every word through the screen of boards which 
prevented us from seeing the preacher. So, for an hour 
and a half, tears often trickhng down his cheeks unre- 
garded, he stood, braced against the bunk, occasionally- 
catching his breath in the intense excitement; and so 
stood his comrade, our only fear that he should make an 
end. When the end came, too soon, neither of us uttered 
a word while the vast audience was dispersing, our un- 
spoken doxology being, "Thank God there is a Bishop 
Simpson, and we have lived to hear him at his best." 

John B. Gough, Prince of Temperance Orators 

Everybody wanted to hear Gough. The press was 
kind to the handsome young reformed inebriate, who, 
at twenty-five, had begun to tell his story, and who 
developed a marvelous natural eloquence, evoking equally 
and surely both laughter and tears. I first heard him 
when he was twenty-six, in his fiery youth. Ten years 
later, in the superb maturity of his powers, I heard him 
in the Presbyterian Church in the rural village of 
Batchellerville; the whole population was there. 

In person somewhat under medium size, slender, erect, 
with a typical English face, abundant brown hair, hang- 
ing down to his collar, side and chin whiskers, seemingly 
allowed to expand for the purpose of conveying an aspect 
of venerableness, brilliant and scintillating dark eyes, a 
pleasing and flexible baritone voice, that two hours of 
strain could not impair, with a marvelous range of gesture 
— descriptive, appealing or deprecatory — a consummate 
actor always, and, at times, a masterful orator — such was 
John B. Gough at thirty-six. 



SOME MEN THAT IMPRESSED ME 97 

The oratory of Gough was all very human. You found 
yourself in profound sympathy with the inebriate, strug- 
gling to throw off the chain of his demonized appetite 
for drink, and you were disposed to help as if, indeed, 
you were akin to the unfortunate wretch. When the 
appalling climax came, and you saw realistically depicted 
the brave, strong young man in the clutches of delirium 
tremens, your soul was rent with sympathetic anguish 
at the tragedy. For years and years you could not recall 
that portion of Gough's address without a renewed thrill 
of pain. Some modern theologians are suspected of 
trying to eliminate from our creed a belief in a future 
hell, into which the incorrigibly wicked shall be cast, 
but let them witness for a half hour the wrestling of a 
strong man to cast off the "snakes," in a spasm of delirium 
tremens, and they will confess that hell is quite a possible 
part in this life. 

Some years later, after his second return from England, 
I heard Gough in a two hours' oration at Glens Falls, 
N. Y. His theme was "The Lights and Shadows in 
London." It was all luminous and vivid — his portrayal 
of "high life," the Parliament, the Lord Mayor's dinner, 
glimpses of royalty, etc., but what I remember best, and 
I feel like apologizing therefor, was a droll scene in the 
slums which he described. It seems he was the guest 
of the chief of police, and together they were visiting the 
underworld of London. Calling to him by a gesture a 
gamin, a bright lad of thirteen, who was known to be 
an expert pickpocket, the chief suggested a concrete 
example of his prowess. There was passing in the middle 
of the street, a dignified and over-dressed fop. With 
monocle on eye, and with a haughty air of indifference. 



98 A REMINISCENT BOOK 

he stalked majestically on. The gamin quietly slipped 
a few yards behind him, imitating his step and nearing 
him gradually. Now he is within touching distance, 
when he proceeds adroitly to abstract a delicate cambric 
handkerchief from the pocket of the dignified pedestrian. 
Looking at it contemptuously for an instant, he then 
ostentatiously spits in it, and deliberately folding it, 
deftly returns it to the pocket. Still keeping step, he 
walked backward until he regained the sidewalk, where 
he received his shilling from one of the party! 

The audience had been entertained for an hour and a 
half. Their sides ached with so much laughter; but now 
came a lightning change. Gough had not forgotten the 
grand mission of his life. As the old Roman senator — 
whatever theme he may have been discussing — never 
closed a speech without adding '''Carthago delenda est,'* 
so the faithful temperance evangelist in the fifteen minutes 
of his fervid peroration fixed in every mind the one su- 
preme thought, "Touch not, taste not, handle not the 
unclean and cursed thing." 

Samuel J. Tilden — Lawyer, Statesman, Presi- 
dential Nominee 

The son of a farmer-merchant of Columbia County, 
N. Y., dwelling in the neighborhood of Kinderhook, and 
in touch with the farm of Van Buren, Samuel J. Tilden 
early breathed a fervid political atmosphere, and at 
sixteen prepared an address which was adopted as a 
party manifesto by the Democrats in the pending election. 

An opportunity came to us in 1875 to see him and hear 
him speak at Fort Edward in a well-filled opera house 
where, on request of the village authorities, I introduced 



SOME MEN THAT IMPRESSED ME 99 

him. Referring to his eminent services and reforms, I 
closed my appreciative period with: "Ladies and gentle- 
men, I have the honor and pleasure of presenting to you 
the noblest Roman of them all — Governor Tilden." 

He was of medium height, slender and erect. His 
smooth -shaven face, when in repose, bore an aspect of grim 
determination, but when he was animated in conversation 
or in a speech his plain Roman features lighted up with 
an ingratiating smile. 

Scholarly and choice in his language, singularly distinct 
in articulation, there was a logical solidity in hismessage 
and his argument that deeply impressed his audience. 
His theme was "Civic Uprightness," and it was urged 
with an obvious candor and a patriotic force that were 
very convincing. The eloquent Governor was heartily 
cheered. 

Accepting my invitation to visit the Institute, he ad- 
dressed our faculty and students, over four hundred of 
us assembled in the chapel, on the non-partisan theme, 
"The Great Value of the Habit of Reading." 

He closed his most felicitous address of thirty minutes 
with an admirable rendering of Cicero's peroration in his 
defense of the poet Archias. Of course our students were 
delighted. 

At Washington 

En route for the General Conference at Indianapolis, 
I arranged to go by way of Washington. It was 1856, and 
Franklin Pierce was near the end of his presidency. A 
Democrat by heredity, I had given him my maiden vote, 
despite the uncomplimentary estimate made of him by a 
Whig neighbor of his, a plain-spoken farmer, — "Well, yes. 



100 A REMINISCENT BOOK 

up in New Hampshire Franklin Pierce may be a pretty- 
big man, but come to spread him all over the United 
States he looks almighty thin." 

He had won his spurs and his nomination for the presi- 
dency in the Mexican War. I found him an attractive, 
soldierly presence, affable, apt in conversation, a thorough 
gentleman. We were received in the Green room. He 
entered heartily into the matter of the coming conference, 
speaking pleasantly of men known to both of us. I 
was at a loss how properly to end the interview. He 
tactfully came to my relief, "Have you seen the portrait 
of Washington in the Blue room.? You will be pleased 
to see it." We shook hands, and, the guard showed us 
to the Blue room. 

At the table at my boarding place in Washington, I 
sat vis-a-vis a person of striking figure, resembling very 
much Senator Douglas, short in stature, with a noble 
head, and obvious aspect of distinction. He was chaplain 
to the Senate, Henry Clay Dean. We became at once 
mutually interested, and shortly took on the manner of 
old acquaintances. Having read some anecdotes of his 
humor, I naturally drew him out. "How was it. Chap- 
lain, that you disciplined that rural church.'^" Laughing, 
he said, "Yes, the plain good people to whom I ministered 
for a few Sundays had the habit of turning around, all 
of them, to see any late arrival. I said, the next Sunday, 
'Good people, I am embarrassed by a habit you have, 
and I propose a compromise. If, when a late comer 
arrives, you will not turn around, I will engage to describe 
the person!' They smiled their assent. The service 
began; a late arrival appeared, every eye fixed upon the 
preacher, pausing in his discourse. 'The good woman 



SOME MEN THAT IMPRESSED ME 101 

who is now coming in has a nice plaid gingham dress, and 
she is evidently sorry that she had to be late. ' Another 
arrival. 'That is a middle-aged man, farmer, I guess, 
perhaps he was delayed by his chores. Now it is a 
sprightly, dressy young man, with a new suit. You may 
look for yourselves!' A laugh could not wholly be 
restrained, but the habit of the congregation was perma- 
nently ended." 

"How about your tilt with the young officers?" The 
same sober chaplain had taken a railroad car for Rich- 
mond. Behind him sat two rollicking young oflBcers of 
the United States Army, who had the audacity to attempt 
to haze the Chaplain by telhng coarse, vulgar stories, 
and always the hero was a clergyman; and when the 
train had stopped at a station they roared in laughter. 
They were seated near the front of the car. Rising in his 
seat, and facing the whole car, the Chaplain said, "By 
your dress I see that you young men are army oflScers." 
"Yes," they bowed. "You know that I am Chaplain 
of the Senate.'*" They bowed in reply. "I wish to 
remind you that I am Henry Clay Dean, and that I 
am your superior mentally, morally, and physically, and 
to add that if any more of your vile talk shall be heard 
by me 1 will break your jaws!" They slunk out of the 
car quickly to digest their lesson elsewhere. 

In the stress of the Civil War in 1862, 1 had one glimpse 
of the sad face of Lincoln, while in the extemporized 
hospitals of Washington. And I had no heart to ask for 
a moment of his time, content to look at the White House 
from the outside. 

In January, 1870, while visiting my friend. Dr. Newman, 
then pastor of General Grant, I accompanied Dr. and 



102 A REMINISCENT BOOK 

Mrs. Newman to a reception at the White House. I 
had met General Grant at Round Lake. After being 
greeted by the President, we were passed by courteous 
guards to the august East room. I found myself retained 
among the guests of honor. Among them I met Jessie 
Benton Fremont, wife of the pioneer Californian and 
candidate for the presidency in '56, a lady of beautiful 
and distinguished presence. I said to her, "Is it true, 
the remarkable story I have heard of Senator and Mrs. 
Benton?" "Oh, yes," said she, the tears starting in her 
eyes, "My dear mother was paralyzed and speechless 
when father was writing his book, 'Thirty Years in the 
Senate.' Finding that mother was comforted by the 
tender touch of his hand, he would sit writing hour after 
hour, and month after month, while his left hand held 
the hand of my mother." Incidentally, I saw a proof 
of the devoted loyalty of another husband. After the 
reception, a society lady, bejewelled and notably attrac- 
tive, besought of President Grant the gift of the soiled 
gloves that he had worn at the reception. "Madam," 
said he, "those gloves are bespoken by one who to me 
now and always is 'the first lady of the land.'" 

In 1890 President Harrison was in the White House, 
and received Mrs. King and myself in the Green room. 
It was mid-afternoon and but few were present at the 
time. He seemed quite at home, with an easy dignity 
of manner and speech, and, for our brief interview, made 
us at home also. President Harrison was undoubtedly 
intellectually above the average of the presidents. He 
seemed hardly to have become acquainted with the people. 
They had elected him perhaps partly on his father's 
account, who had died in so short a time after his inaugu- 



SOME MEN THAT IMPRESSED ME 103 

ration. In his official papers and in his addresses, espe- 
cially in one or two addresses before great Christian assem- 
blies, he had impressed those who read the reports as a 
broadminded Christian statesman, but he seemed unfor- 
tunate in making friends, with his broad constituency, 
in not gaining their confidence, and thus it naturally 
came to pass that he failed of re-election. 

I had heard Colonel Roosevelt speak while candidate 
for Governor of the state of New York, and had shaken 
hands with him. I made a call at the official annex of 
the White House, accompanied by Rev. Doctor Bristol, 
the pastor of the Metropolitan Methodist Episcopal 
Church, afterward bishop. Our cards were received by 
the President's private secretary, Mr. Loeb, and we were 
made comfortable in the chairs of the waiting room. 
After a half hour we were taken in to the vacated cabinet 
room. A moment later, the President entered briskly, 
his face flushed and his eyes blazing excitedly, as if he 
had just come as a victor from a sturdy contest with 
giants or dragons. He seized Doctor Bristol's hand, and 
then mine. " Delighted ! " said he. Dr. Bristol attempted 
to introduce me. "I know Dr. King already, I am de- 
lighted to see you both." Then followed a rapid fire 
of questions, he making most of the talk. The matter 
I brought before him was the reappointment of a post- 
master, and he entered into the whole situation with 
keenest interest. The Spanish American War was 
involved — some of the soldiers are related to the problem 
— I would like to help you — the matter is out of my hands, 
— you must take it to the Congressman of your district. 
The obviously friendly tone and aspect of this strong 
man, so intensely alive, was irresistibly gratifying, 



104 A REMINISCENT BOOK 

powerfully, hypnotically so. I never wondered that this 
mighty, compelling personality was equal to constraining 
the ambassadors of two great militant emperors to con- 
summate the Peace of Portsmouth. Metaphorically, 
though effectually, he seemed to seize Russia and Japan 
by the collar and force them to clasp hands. He most as- 
suredly earned the Nobel prize as the greatest of peace- 
makers. 



CHAPTER IX 

MINOR MORALS 

A Rhyming Lecture on Manners * 

Non fit poeta — wrote a classic bard, 

Then forthwith reeled off dullness by the yard. 

A free translation of what Horace writ, 

To "only rhyme" when theme and time are fit. 

I bring tonight, good friends, a homely text — ; 

Unbend your brows, your brain will not be vext. 

No new philosophy of education. 

No sage solution of the earth's formation, 

No grave discussion of the unchanging laws, 

Which mark and undergird a righteous cause: 

A wealth of stirring themes the Muse invites. 

Of world-side scope — of human wrongs and rights. 

The zealous statesman, still new schemes advances, 

To medicate the national finances; 

Labor and capital lock horns and strive 

By strikes and lockouts to keep hate alive; 

The New Reform begs that the oppressed saloon 

May do its "preying" Sunday afternoon; 

Till faint hearts shiver at prevailing evil 

And in despair pay tribute to the devil. 

But why forget how charities abound 

While Missions girdle the great earth around. 

And arbitration wins its widening way, 

Through radiant promise of Millennial day? 

Nay then, look up; shake off doubt's craven fetter. 

And own, perhaps, the world is growing better. 

Denied today, the champion's noble part. 
Though patriot fire glows in each loyal heart, 

* Delivered annually at Fort Edward Institute through many decades. 
105 



106 A REMINISCENT BOOK 

I crave indulgence to a humbler theme, 
Too humble, as some grave savants may deem. 
"Manners and Men" the Science and the Art 
On life's real stage of acting well one's part. 

Par parenthesis to these my learned friends, 
Whom the assumption of the theme offends 
As if, forsooth, the ungracious aim appears. 
To teach decorum to one's worthy peers, 
I read to you — my purpose this alone — 
Some hints prepared for pupils of my own. 

A teacher's lesson mingles grave and gay, 
Didactic pastime of a holiday. 
Who, learning wisdom from the ingenious nurse. 
Resolves to sugar-coat his drugs with verse. 

Hear me, O Muse, and lend thy genial power. 
Beguile the time — 'twill scarcely be an hour — 
Though from a toil-worn brain an exile long. 
Yet smile upon this unadventurous song. 
Which aims in but a middle flight to soar, 
Yet would not prove a bald and downright bore. 

Say first, O Muse, what is the final cause; 

Are we the better for these civil laws? 

First reconcile to hear the homely truth 

That form the manners of the goodly youth. 

Talk not in riddles; make thy lesson plain, 

And be specific, lest thou teach in vain. 

Though some shall deem thee far more nice than wise, 

A hundred trifles thou must not despise. 

The dress and address, how to look and walk. 
The way to eat and drink, and write and talk; 
And how to do at church and in the street. 
And how repel the rudeness that you meet; 
And when a mishap strikes you with surprise. 
How to scratch in again your damaged eyes. 



MINOR MORALS 107 

And tell us, Gentle Muse, is there a rule 
How to be gallant and not seem a fool? 
And every damsel teach this lesson rare 
Not to be helpless to be thought more fair. 

These "Minor Morals" faithfullj^ rehearse. 

And mend our manners, whilst thou mends t the verse. 

Serve us but well, thou dainty classic elf, 

I vow to place an image of thyself 

By praying Samuel's side upon the shelf. 

And like that kneeling lad in sober clay 

Thus thy petition will ever pray. 

In all the weightier matters of the law 

Man must his conscience keep without a flaw; 

Yet why withhold to neighbor, friend or wife 

The small sweet courtesies of daily life? 

Judgment and mercy he may still pursue 

Yet pay his willing tithes of mint and anise too. 

Why doth the Maker garnish all the land 
With shapes of beauty from his affluent hand; 
The majestic hills, the royal race of trees, 
The humble floweret nodding to the breeze? 
Why give the emerald earth to blaze with light, 
And hang his watch fires on the walls of night? 
And say, why gives he to the human soul 
The power to see and to enjoy the whole? 
Why stamp on man that majesty of mien 
Whose trace in every human form is seen, 
Why breathe upon him so divine a grace. 
Why carve such lines of beauty on his face? 

'Tis the All father's manifest design 

That man should emulate these forms divine. 

Should mould to beauty, his whole being here. 

And harmonize to grace his high career: 

Else cynic churl maintain this paradox 

A reasoning man's no better than an ox ! 



108 A REMINISCENT BOOK 

Dost ask cui bono? "Will good manners pay?" 

Well try this test: what doth experience say? 

The simplest Yankee merchant knows right well 

Wares best got up are certain first to sell ! 

By Nature's freak it hath at times befell 

A precious seed lurks in an ugly shell, 

Yet oftener doth exterior features show 

Correct exponents of the truth below. 

By dress and address since the world began 

We judge the "inner" by the "outer man." 

And Nature's voice he may not dare to doubt. 

Bids every comer hang his banner out. 

A well bred man, though of obscurest birth, 

Yet current passes at his real worth; 

While Solon with the manners of a boor 

Shall knock in vain at many a mansion door. 

The Muse gives no impracticable plan, 

The dress should fit the occasion and the man. 

An honored house makes you an honored guest. 

Custom demands you do and wear your best. 

W^hate'er the garment is, be sure it suits, 

Be faultless both in collar and in boots; 

Your ornaments be few, but rich and chaste. 

Your colors aptly chosen and in taste. 

Thus clad presentably your watchful glass. 

Will bow and smile, admire and let you pass. 

Not Fashion's slaves, nor too severely plain, 

Let men of sense a golden mean maintain. 

Who dons at once each nobby thing that's made. 

But lends his back to advertise the trade 

Spoke the gay wife — it was a day in spring — 

"Tell me, my dear, what was the sweetest thing 

In bonnets that you saw in town today?" 

Made answer he — imagine her dismay — 

While conjuring visions up of gems and laces — 

"The sweetest thing in bonnets? Why the ladies' 

faces!" 
True art in dress, doth not itself disclose, 



MINOR MORALS 109 

The man presents, parading not his clothes. 

At work — the dress adapt unto its use, 

Just pride forbids to falter and excuse. 

The Prince may make an unexpected call, 

Let him apologize, yours no wrong at all. 

The fop affecting a distinguished air, 

Is overdressed, his brains have run to hair — 

And yonder swaggers a pretentious snob. 

His cloth is fine, he wears a gorgeous fob. 

These awkward shifts but ape the gentleman. 

And serve to make his innate grossness plain. 

So Bridget in her mistress' borrowed gown 

Aspires to get accredited in town; 

She wears the badges of the "ton" about. 

But every urchin finds the pretender out. 

Each village Broadway boasts its darling flirt, 

Her costly satins trailing in the dirt — 

A wealthy father's pride — she hath no lack — 

She's half the shops of Paris on her back. 

Yet doth this fair McFlimsey still declare 

In dainty pride "She nothing has to wear!" 

Well pity 'tis Miss Flora and the rest 

"With all their wealth are yet so scantily dressed. 

'Tis right to own a pair of polished arms, 

But then, too much to ventilate these charms 

Is dangerous to the health, and, to be just. 

Proud flesh exposed may chance to breed disgust. 

Whom meet we here! with wild abstracted air. 

Her feet slipshod and with dishevelled hair. 

Her hat and shawl and everything askew. f* 

That female, gentle ladies, is a "Blue!" 

Beauty was hers, but tamely she forsook 

And sank her woman's birthright in her book. 

Climb thou, fair girl, Parnassus utmost height, 

Each Muse and man abhors an educated fright! 

God well endowed the first ancestral pair. 

Both were complete, but Eve surpassing fair. 

Apostates though her charming daughters be 



no A REMINISCENT BOOK 

They still retain a wand of witchery. 
Let them assert their high prerogative 
Deserve the homage Adam's sons will give. 
Has partial Nature stamped your features plain 
And do you sigh for beauty's gift in vain? 
I know a matron — in her unfriended youth, 
Obscure, deemed unattractive and uncouth. 
No fairies cherished this neglected child, 
Upon her pathway flattery never smiled. 
Long years have passed — I saw her yesterday, 
And she were worthy to be Queen of May! 
Her silver tinted locks indeed to tell 
Of coming age — yet looks she passing well. 
An undefinable, half conscious grace 
Appears upon her almost regal face. 
Goodness and purity look from her eyes, 
And hers all are the features which comprise 
The tout ensemble of the friend we love, 
With Eden hints of seraphs passed above. 
To her wise words the learned will defer, 
And better still — her husband praiseth her. 
'Tis Culture's magic touch can arch the brow. 
Can give plain features the diviner glow. 
And well engrafted in a happy heart 
Can all the charms of beauty's self impart. 
Or take the terser maxim, if you choose, 
"Handsome forever is — that handsome does." 

On locomotion will the Muse discourse: 

What lesson doth she teach and how enforce? 

Avoid a lackadaisical or languid gait, 

And don't perpetually hitch and hesitate. 

Scarce better is an agitated pace 

As one who tugs and sweats to gain a race. 

Forbear indulgence in that haughty stride, 

Else get some stilts at once and air your pride. 

Nor drop your head and shoulders in a heap 

And wear a hang-dog look — as if you 've stolen sheep. 



MINOR MORALS 111 

The mincing prude her pettiness displays, 
Abjure her simpering, Klliputian ways. 
Firmly advance with even natural tread, 
Arms unconstrained and a well-poised head. 
Thus will each individual footstep trace 
Along your path the envied line of grace. 
Walk like yourself — as sturdy Crockett said — 
Always be sure you're right — then go ahead! 

Of the allotted three score years and ten 

Spent on the bounteous earth by mortal men, 

Both figures and philosophers agree. 

Each septuagenarian spends in eating three. 

A scene on which so oft the curtains rise 

May well demand the pedagogue's advice. 

Shall it betide you to be asked to dine. 

Be present promptly, else in form decline. 

In anteroom — the attendant shows you where — 

Your wrappings doffed — you're dressed, of course, with 

care. 
Straight to the hostess make your gallant way, 
Get first your welcome, thus begins the day. 
Then can you pass your fellow guests to greet. 
And chat in freedom with the friends you meet. 
In salutations use this decent form. 
Be cordial always, but not over warm. 
The civil code to woman doth accord 
The initiative, or with hand or word. 
Of this high franchise, too, is she possessed. 
To recognize or not, quite at her own behest. 
Doth brazen knavery in disguise presume 
To proffer greeting in that festal room. 
With stately nod pass the intruder by 
But freeze his marrows with your stony eye. 
Let no new sight however strange or rare 
Betray your face into an idiot stare. 
Whatever happens — though a ghost shall rise — 
'Twere no excuse for gaping your surprise! 



112 A REMINISCENT BOOK 

In introductions, 'tis the wiser plan 

To make them simple as you ever can. 

Unto the ladies and dignitaries make 

All presentations for precedency's sake; 

And shall you mumble every other word. 

Speak out the names, so they'd be surely heard. 

But while these nonessentials we debate, 

We wrong our hosts to make the table wait. 

Observe the order of each separate course, 

Help to beguile the time with gay discourse. 

You see a silver fork — take that and eat — 

The plebeian knife is well nigh obsolete. 

Of what is proffered temperately partake, 

No questions asking for your conscience' sake. 

To people civilized politeness puts this test, 

The grosser pleasures may not be confessed. 

This canon of refinement you will heed. 

And not betray a groveling savage greed, 

As we have seen at hasty railroad stations, 

Where hungry travellers bolt their rations. 

If the fair hostess proffer ruby wine 

'Tis no offence shall you with thanks decline. 

''Not drink the health of the bride, my daughter!" 

"Yes, from my heart, in this glass of pure water.' 

No need to chill the generous festal hour. 

Or turn the milk of human kindness sour. 

By a blunt lecture on the drunkard's woe. 

But all the same, maintain your sturdy *'No." 

A clergyman abroad, was asked to dine, 

His British host, per custom, proffered wine. 

His guest declined, of true teetotal stock: 

"You can't, at least, decline this fine old Hock?'* 

With ready wit the Yankee made reply, 

"Yes, hie, haec, hoc. I learned it when a boy." 

Infuse in every dish an added zest 

By deftly mingling in the timely jest. 

A gush of moderate laughter may have way, 

'Twill serve to keep dyspepsia's wolf at bay. 



MINOR MORALS 113 

Sit out the hour with a complacent ease, 
Nor take too soon the napkin from your knees. 
Toy with a crust, or ply some like device. 
Till eke the hostess give the cue to rise. 

Go early — ere the festive spirit flags, 

Or ere the flow of soul exhausted lags; 

Bid a kind farewell — speak your kindest thought. 

The word last spoken is the last forgot. 

This wholesome proverb just precisely here 

The Muse would whisper in your private ear: 

"When at your neighbor's house stay not too late. 

Else weary of you he may come to hate." 

Too much even of good company offends. 

Short visitations make the longest friends. 

A letter comes: No matter what's proposed, 

Make answer promptly — (is a stamp enclosed?) 

Wanting a stamp, a postal may suMce 

To speak your mind or give the wished advice. 

The telegraph, schoolmaster to the nation. 

Has taught our random talkers condensation. 

One prudently remembers, whaVs to pay, 

And answers with explicit "y^a-" o^ "nay." 

Thus in a business paper, speed your way 

Straight to the pith of what you have to say. 

Why drive your pen through a long steeplechase, 

When ten terse words suffice to state your case? 

Postals take all men into confidence. 

Be sure to use them then with common sense. 

To vent upon a card, your spleen or spite. 

The law may strike you, and will serve you right. 

Letters of friendship, ah, how doubly blest 

The happy man, of one wise friend possessed. 

Bound to his heart with voluntary fetters 

And all his life to him, a man of letters. 

A grave conundrum now you may propose: 

How shall a letter have a fitting close? 



114 A REMINISCENT BOOK 

The lover with a charity that all endures, 

"Writes fondly at the close "forever yours." 

A business note as did the lawyers grace, 

Ends '''yours respectfully" in every case. 

'Tis the sweet license of a loving friend 

To speak the glowing thoughts until the end. 

Enough to him whose heart is all aflame 

If on the margin he but add his name. 

Some ladies — I protest against their plan — 

Sign by initials, too much like a man. 

So the loud girl, caught smoking a cigar. 

Who, taken to task by her aggrieved mamma, 

Made this excuse, with a most saucy pout, 

''It makes it seem as if a mans about" 

I beg, at least, when writing to a stranger. 

You'll own to "Sarah Jane" and shun a danger; 

Lest to your horror, by return of mail. 

You be addressed as Dear Mr. Quail. 

Than conversation — noble art of arts. 

That captive takes and holds all human hearts. 

No one accomplishment on land or main 

Is envied more or harder to attain. 

The Muse abashed, despite her silver tongue, 

Leaves but these promptings as we pass along: 

If called to mingle in the high debate, 

A generous ardor may vociferate; 

But with a parlor audience sitting nigh. 

Forbear to spout or brawl or speechify. 

In conversation use pure voice alone, 

A clear and round and polished undertone. 

When either friends or strangers come together. 

One lawful theme there always is — "the weather. 

'Tis proper, too, by reputable use. 

To make inquiry of the "health" and "news." 

These friendly queries should be understood 

As figures and not rigidly construed. 

To answer with a catalogue of ills — 



MINOR MORALS 115 

Parade your symptoms, fevers, aches or chills — 
Your friend may come to have a further doubt 
Whether your anxious mother knows you're out. 
Reply in form to mere formalities 
In diplomatic glittering generalities. 
Pass to some topic with impromptu grace, 
Adapted to the occasion and the place. 
Though scant the range of subjects you may deem. 
Grudge not the egotist his threadbare theme. 
Dull is the orchestra whose players ring 
Perpetual changes on a single string! 
A muddled traveller once — the legends say — 
Upon a three-mile race course lost his way. 
Day after day he walked his weary round 
Involved in mystery more and more profound, 
Why as from stage to stage, he plodding strode 
Such strange resemblance marked the dreary road ! 

Here is an evil known beneath the sun. 

No sooner hath one's modest speech begun, 

Than termagant with fierce, ear-splitting din. 

Without a "by your leave, sir" bounces rudely in. 

Thus ill-conditioned curs do yelping fly 

At decent civil travellers passing by. 

In every circle shun the boorish crime 

'Gainst sense and manners — Talking all the time! 

Like some unbitted colt with mane unkempt 

Spurning his rider's hand with brute contempt, 

Bearing him powerless in his headlong flight 

Till reels his brain and blurs his failing sight. 

Such is the incorrigible talking bore, 

Who buttonholes you by the hour or more; 

Despite imploring looks will he monopolize, 

Till 'twere no marvel if his victim dies. 

A story runs — authentic I've no doubt — 

That two such reprobates had once a talking bout. 

Yankee and Frenchman, haply having met. 

At a country inn, made there a famous bet, 



116 A REMINISCENT BOOK 

Which should outtalk the other; they began — 

For hours and hours their clattering tongues still ran, 

Tho' watchers weary all dropped off to bed; 

But on and on the wordy contest sped. 

At morn as Boniface, the host, drew near, 

This marvelous prodigy there did appear, 

The Frenchman dead! The Yankee whispering in his ear! 

A counter error is to be too "mum," 

Stifly reserved, as if pretending dumb. 

To mope and sulk upon the Turkish plan 

Is contraband to any Christian man. 

Of this ungracious sort, I grieve to tell 

The faith denying, worse than infidel. 

Niggard of speech at home, though affable abroad. 

Reserving all fine manners for the road ; 

With strangers bounteous, but the crabbed churl. 

For wife or child can scarce afford a pearl. 

No morning greeting, nor low- voiced "good night," 

Nor loving glance that fills the house with light. 

Whether he has a heart remains a doubt, 

Until some day a funeral brings it out. 

"The enfant terrible," what wrath has oft incurred 
By blurting out blunt truths he's overheard! 
His fault is venial, when compared, I trow, 
With adult Partington's malapropos, 
Who scarcely open mouth by night or day 
But plump into it goes their foot straightway. 
Whether your converse be a grave or gay, 
Your taste and judgment may be left to say. 
At times indulge a dash of poesy, 
A flash of wit — a generous repartee. 
Dispute but rarely, though if Punic wars 
Shall wildly rage, they leave no painful scars. 
Rebuke intentional effrontery 
With the silent stab of your indignant eye. 
True courtesy may wear a garment soiled. 



MINOR MORALS 117 

But ever keep its English undefiled. 

Indignant wrath may utter thoughts that burn, 

But not in words a woman's hp should spurn. 

No blasphemies to shame the saintly cheek, 

Nor coward parodies of oaths he dare not speak. 

Nor low-bred slang, nor coarse and ribald jest 

To spice a story with the bar-room zest; 

These vile expletives rest beneath the ban 

Of every self-respectful gentleman. 

Choose to be deaf — or fail to understand 

A gross allusion or a "double entend." 

If broad the jest, you should not seem to hear 

That meaning any word ought not to bear. 

When woman's tongue to grossness condescends, 

Her throne she abdicates — her kingdom ends. 

Suggestive sulphur seems to fill the air. 

And the wise tourist dares not to linger there; 

As prudent Hans on journeying to the south. 

Tasting the spring, which strangely burned his mouth. 

Exclaimed "Mine Gott! Move on, I have a fear 

Hell is not further as one mile from here!" 

Defend the absent — are they misconstrued, 

And of the dead, speak not — or only good. 

"Speech is silver" saith a classic friend. 

But "silence golden" when the talk should end. 

In fine, if in this art you would excel. 

This rarest secret learn — to listen well ! 

She is, be sure, the most engaging elf, 

Who charms the flattered speaker with himself. 

The eager listener every accent hears 

Her eyes dilate, dewy with unshed tears. 

Mapped on the upturned face her radiant soul appears. 

If asked to sing, or play, at once comply, 
Without parade or bluster — you can try — 
Nor wait for flattering importunities. 
With stale excuses which you know are lies. 



118 A REMINISCENT BOOK 

Politeness true, can never be content 

Favors to take without acknowledgment. 

No tardy, soulless thanks express 

The face belying what the words confess. 

O such a curtesy once 'twas mine to see! 

So full of sweetness and of witchery, 

The unspoken thanks were so complete — 

A plain rough man had given up his seat — 

So precious was the recompense, 

He dreamed of angels for a fortnight hence. 

And could have journeyed many a weary mile 

To earn the chance of such another smile. 

Slanderers are they who say he's blind. 

Love is considerate as well as kind. 

Out ! on that ghost of kindness stark and bare, 

Which gives, but with a patronizing air, 

Leaving it doubtful if the victim lives. 

Killing with kindness, murdering while he gives. 

Give honor due to every worthy man, 

Nor sink the patriot in the partisan. 

Unlike those champions for the party's good, 

"Who, in each canvass, fall to throwing mud. 

Loyal to principle unto the core. 

Love party warmly, but your country more. 

Speak well of dignities — if conscience can — 

Respect the office, whoe'er be the man. 

Against all comers claim what's just and right. 

But keep your honor and your manhood bright. 

But have you wronged the humblest of your friends. 

Confess your fault and amply make amends. 

Your instant unaffected grief express. 

In fitting phrase — with downright earnestness. 

And leave no place for "jealousy" or doubt, 

Before the demon enters cast him out. 

Else rankling spleen may soon engender strife. 

And make an unforgiving enemy for life. 

Some luckless wights, their bashfulness retards, 

Their slow-paced wit comes limping afterwards. 



MINOR MORALS 119 

No matter what, a bangle snapped in twain; 

A neighbor jostled, or a trampled train ; 

Or plumage crumpled to the sorriest plight — 

*'I beg your pardon" sets the matter right. 

Such petty mishap, with politeness blest, 

Becomes instead "the happy accident." 

And friends are made through chance discovered graces. 

More oft than by long years of commonplaces. 

Be self-respectful — to yourself be true — 

Ask no man's pardon for what God bids you do, 

The flustered housewife deprecates her luck, 

'Twas such a shame to overdo the duck. 

She's sorry to have scorched the choicest cakes. 

But then the best will sometimes make mistakes. 

Her house is small, they are so plagued for room, 

But then she trusts her friends will feel at home. 

Good dame! you wrong yourself with this ado, 

Your guest conies not your house to see, but you. 

See yonder feeble, supercilious fool. 

Who has chanced to pass a term or two at school; 

Eschewing "housework" as both low and mean, 

Lolls in the parlor, with a magazine, 

Apologizing to her perfumed beau. 

For "mother" — "who had not advantages, you know." 

What though a mother's honest face be plain. 

And seamed with wrinkles, writ by time and pain. 

Homely her speech, her garments out of style. 

Yet in her heart dwells love, unmixed with guile, 

That o'er thy sickbed tireless watched and yearned, 

That quenchless as the stars hath ever burned. 

Time's ruthless changes work no dimness there, 

That steadfast love hath earned thy filial care. 

No curse earth hath, since first by sin defiled, 

So bitter as to know a thankless child. 

O happy in the evening of her life, 

Heartsore and weary of the world's dread strife, 

A bending pilgrim knocks she at your door. 

Seeking to share — for a too little while — your store. 



120 A REMINISCENT BOOK 

Make her right welcome to your easiest chair, 
Surely God's blessing enters with her there! 
Blest is the house which never doth forget, 
Its filial dues, but loves to pay the debt. 
Blest in its larder, blest in field and flocks. 
Thrice blest the cradle which grandmother rocks. 

In church and state avoid the coward's /ence. 

Takes sides — hath heaven vouchsafed you common sense. 

On each Lord's day, beneath some Christian steeple. 

Let all men see you meet with praying people. 

To lounge the streets while worshipers go by, 

Proclaims your want of common decency; 

And ugly doubts to thoughtful minds will come, 

What "pagan" trash your folks must be at home. 

God's temple should have reverence, never rush 

Into the sacred place. A solemn hush 

Becomes the worshipers on Zion's hill. 

Where peaceful Hermon's blessed dews distill. 

When at Christ's table humbly bow the head. 

With ungloved hand receive the sacramental bread 

No rustling train, or any whispered word, 

Let Shiloh's sacred service alone be heard. 

These ended, reverent stand with drooping head 

Till the last word of benediction's said. 

Noiseless then, and thoughtful, move away. 

And muse on God through all the holy day. 

En route for church to fire a cigarette 

Shows in good breeding you're a tyro yet. 

Do you demand, what written laws forbid it? 

The answer is — no gentleman ever did it. 

Tobacco is such rank and noxious weed 

That of earth's creatures but three are agreed 

To eat it — guess them if you can — 

The worm, the scraggy mountain goat — and man! 

Mark you, the worm and goat I do not blame. 

They never grossly glory in their shame. 

They use the weed, but in a private way, 



MINOR MORALS 121 

No well-bred goat his habit would display. 

By spitting filth on decent people's floors, 

Or blowing clouds to poison all out-doors. 

Or steep his beard in odors sickening vile, 

Then walk about to windward of the aisle. 

As who would say, were human speech but given, 

"Ho! ho! how rank I am I smell to heaven!" 

If smoke you must, young sir, a cigarette. 

Go to some glen, remote as you can get: 

There blaze away — no neighbors now to bother. 

With fire at one end and fool at "t'other." 

Your incense burned to Moloch in the glen. 

Dare not return you to the haunts of men, 

Or blows the fierce north wind, or gentle south 

Until you wash the filthy witness from your mouth. 

In gallantry these elements agree, 

Strength, gentleness and truth and chivalry. 

To be both gallant therefore and a man, 

Surely no aimless, brainless fopling can. 

The ambitious youth on social conquest bent. 

Is not to drivel maudlin sentiment. 

Who thinks to win by shallow, sham pretence. 

Much rates the average common sense, 

Not any starched and buckrammed carpet knight, 

The fair prefer the sons of genuine night, 

Who stalwart stand, a goodly sheltering tower 

With strength to shield in peril's darkening hour. 

A Samson waiting but her smile or frown 

To tear the gates of any Gaza down. 

With tameless will — with soul to do and dare — 

Only the brave deserve to win the fair. 

His vestments, manners, moustache may be sleek, 

Yet each real lady must despise a sneak. 

Clandestine overtures can but ofi^end 

And off to Coventry the coward send — 

Whether or not the father interferes 

To give the cur the footing he deserves. 



122 A REMINISCENT BOOK 

First gain respect, deserve the confidence, 

These outposts gained, the siege may now commence. 

You will not be too vehemently fast, 

Obstrusive offices your energies but waste. 

You have indeed a qualified consent 

To speak an honest, truthful compliment. 

These should be timely, delicate and rare, 

As angel visits to our planet are. 

You will not be too personal and coarse. 

Such Attic salt could scarcely tempt a horse. 

And never won that chiefest prize of life, 

A coy but self-respectful Yankee wife. 

Advance the lines, employ each manly art, 

To scale the malakoff of woman's heart. 

At length will dawn capitulation day. 

Consult the ancients — now no more delay — 

Speak out the truth, and if you be a true man. 

You well may dare to risk your faith in woman. 

A hackneyed metaphor "the oak and vine" 

Round him, the trunk, her clinging tendrils twine. 

As sentiment, for once, 'twere well enough, 

But for the prose of life 'tis sorry stuff. 

Is woman then that fragile, imbecile thing, 

Too frail to stand and only fit to cling .f* 

Youth's brilliant hues full soon must pass away, 

A mushroom growth, predestined to decay. 

If beauty's homage you would still prolong. 

Be gentle surely, but be also strong. 

To thorough training in each solid art 

Add every grace which culture can impart. 

But will this discipline be more complete 

If you abjure the use of hands and ieet? 

Nay she is the most fascinating elf 

Who on occasion dares to help herself ! 

Shall any exquisite presumptuous boy 

Mistake you for this useless sugar toy. 

At once to rebuke this popinjay from town. 

And bring his ruffles in confusion down, 



MINOR MORALS 123 

Propose — with due accompaniment of smiles — 

A morning walk of — half a dozen of miles ! ! ! 

Or quite to squelch this stupidest of bores, 

Say "You must help your ma to do the chores!" 

Despite the fiction moonstruck dreamers tell, 

A modest independence suits you well. 

Thus bravely help yourself, so shall you be 

In maiden meditation fancy free; 

Alike prepared, whatever fortunes come. 

To grace yourselves — or grace a freeman's home. 

'Tis a foul libel on great Nature's truth. 

That "true love's course but seldom runneth smooth." 

Misfits there doubtless are, I've known a few 

Heart-breaking ones, and so perhaps have you, 

In the grand aggregate are but the merest fraction. 

Of homes made hells by turbulent distraction. 

In matches unapproved by common sense 

The conjugation hath no perfect tense. 

God, in his goodness, hath so framed our race. 

Hath so inwrought all souls with germs of grace. 

Such kinship have they to the Heaven above. 

That common hearts the talent have to love. 

Millions so joined, not death itself can sever. 

Elect and precious keeping troth forever. 

The novelist ignores harmonious lives; 

The drama best on morbid fancies thrives. 

In real life, from what hath lately been. 
Let me portray a homely, truthful scene. 
Sat in his chamber, writing year by year. 
An aged senator, stern and severe. 
So thought the world, for it had seen him give 
Hard blows in high debate — give and receive — 
Of honesty and right, the champion bold 
"Old Bullion" called, so like to sterling gold. 
That stern old man wrote on, and by his side 
His equal aged, but palsy-smitten bride: 
Blighted and dumb, her aged eyes grown dim, 



124 A REMINISCENT BOOK 

Yet mute and wistful turned she still to him; 
And he, that senator stern and severe, 
Sat daily writing in his chamber there. 
Clasping, the while in his, her palsied hand. 
Such was Tom Benton, tender, true and grand. 

Good manners have the fundamental basis 

Blend all the charities with all the graces; 

The wisest rules will not avail alone 

To make these high accomplishments our own. 

New courses multiply, but tell me where 

The college is with its aesthetic chair 

To take the greenness out from gawky boys, 

And give each freshman graceful equipoise. 

The French effect to dictate to the "ton," 

What gewgaws and what airs we shall put on. 

They even teach us how to mourn by rule; 

At Paris, Madame Fashion keeps her school. 

There, are fine gentlemen to order made. 

This is Monsieur's the dancing master's trade. 

A rich man once took there his gawky son, 

And bade the professor put his polish on. 

One lesson was — he'd have him learn it well — 

Acquaintance how to make with mademoiselle. 

*'I introduce a lady, mark me now, 

Three steps advance, then make your finest bow. " 

*'Oui, Monsieur!" Next day comes a highborn dame, 

Full of his lore — the youth is told her name — 

One step he strides, when thus in mid career. 

He meets the dame provokingly too near. 

Not to be baffled, "Madame, by your leave," 

Seizing the astonished stranger by the sleeve, 

"Oblige me to fall back a step or two." 

"You're very kind." "Ah, thank you, that will do." 

Thus having pushed Madame along the floor 

Till he has done his full two paces more. 

Then a la mode, his grandest bow he throws, 

The climax caps, by tumbling on his nose. 

In contrast here, may I not find a place 



MINOR MORALS 125 

To set a gem of untaught rustic grace? 
Great Washington, the foremost man of all — 
At a wayside cottage chanced to make a call; 
The humble hosts set forth their simple cheer, 
A half hour friendly chats disarms their fear, 
The illustrious guest arose to say "good night," 
The farmer hands his little girl the light — 
"Sorry I am to trouble you," he said, 
Answered to Washington this little maid, 
A rosy smile dimpling her fairy chin, 
*'I only wish, it were to let you in. " 

Partly we learn from precepts of the sage, 

More by rehearsals on life's real stage: 

By use the shinning blade is freed from rust. 

Diamonds are polished best in diamond dust. 

You have two eyes — mark how they do in Rome — 

And every day we can rehearse at hom.e. 

Let monarchs board their palaces and towers, 

In all the world are no such homes as ours. 

When exiled thence our goodly youth depart, 

In dreams they visit oft these Meccas of the heart. 

Blest festal morn ! o'er all the days that come, 

Which bids the pilgrim's winged feet come home. 

Ah ! God be thanked, these bulwarks still remain, 

The school of manners — nurseries of m.en ! 

Fain would I linger, still with words of hope, 

To cast with friendly hand each horoscope. 

The Muse reminds me that I presume too long 

To ask indulgence to so plain a song. 

Sure as each star its destined orbit moves 

So surely heaven appoints our human loves. 

Be worthy of thy future, it will come 

Each waxing moon brings near the harvest home. 

Accept thy Kfe work, bravely do thy best. 

Thou mayst then calmly leave to God the rest. 



126 A REMINISCENT BOOK 

Hold back, old graybeard Time, thy furrowing storms. 
O lightly touch these fair and youthful forms ! 
When wintry withering age is drawing nigh. 
Bid Indian summer gild their every sky; 
Retain but mellow all the rays of noon. 
Touch still the landscape with the hues of June, 
Borrow a radiance serene and high, 
From dawning stars of Immortality. 



CHAPTER X 

LATER DAYS AT FORT EDWARD 

The Conflagration of 1877 and the Enforced 
Recess 

At six o'clock one evening in November, 1877, the 
original Institute building was in flames. The fire had 
caught from an overheated coal stove (introduced that 
year) in room 49, first floor, occupied by two young lads 
who had rushed in to their supper from the playgrounds, 
without having gone to their room. One of the lads was 
the son of a missionary, who had been received at one- 
half the usual rates. 

A cry of fire was heard from without. The Principal 
rang his bell and said, "The Institute seems to be on fire. 
You are to be excused immediately. Do not lose your 
self-control — save your things if you can, but see to it 
that you aid the young ladies in getting out with their 
belongings if you are able!" Quietly, but rapidly, the 
dining hall was vacated. Faculty and students were 
safe in making rapid egress from the fated building, and 
in two hours the massive structure was in ruins. A few 
of the boys lost their wardrobes and books, and were aided 
to the needful outfit for their journey home. The trunks 
of the girls were carried out to a safe place. Hospitable 
homes of the village were opened to the students for the 
night. 

At nine the following morning, word being passed 
around, the faculty and students met at Harris Hall for 

127 



128 A REMINISCENT BOOK 

their closing chapel exercises. The roll was called and 
all responded "Present." 

As to a reconstruction of the Institute, that was to be 
considered presently. The maxim was adopted, *'In all 
thy ways acknowledge Him, and He shall direct thy 
paths." 

To build or not to build! The villagers clamored for 
the immediate rebuilding of the Institute, though, having 
disposed of the few shares that they had originally owned, 
except a paltry eight hundred dollars' worth or so, they 
were not in a position to dictate. Had not some fifty- 
seven thousand dollars of insurance been collected? Yes, 
but now more than nineteen-twentieths of the original 
stock was owned by the Principal, who, in response to the 
demand for annual dividends, had purchased nearly all 
the small shares, several hundred, and all large holdings 
except those of F. D. Hodgman, who sought no dividends, 
and whose six thousand dollars' worth of shares was bought 
from his heirs some years later. 

With the epoch of free high schools now fast coming on, 
could an unendowed boarding seminary be self-support- 
ing? Many academies were selling out their plants for 
public schools; many others in the near future collapsed. 
After the twenty-three years of his signally successful 
administration, his students in thirty states of the Union, 
why should not the Principal avail himself of one of the 
calls to be at the head of an endowed seminary and, un- 
handicapped by debt, resume his work elsewhere? The 
trustees were of his election, the charter could readily be 
annulled, and an equitable division of results would have 
made his share somewhat over fifty thousand dollars. 

The villagers, waking to the situation, voted by a large 



LATER DAYS AT FORT EDWARD 129 

majority to ask the Legislature to authorize the raising 
of fifteen thousand dollars by tax to provide for a high 
school department in Fort Edward Collegiate Institute. 
The bill was passed, but vetoed by the Governor. The 
good will of the village had thus been attested. After a 
year and a half of enforced recess, the Principal got tired 
of so prolonged a vacation; he was in love with his work 
and determined to rebuild, make the new institute better 
than the old, and take up his work again in Fort Edward. 
It would cost a struggle; but he was in high health at 
fifty-seven and eager for hard work. 

The New Institute 

At a cost of one thousand dollars, the village built an 
excellent draining system to the river; no other contri- 
butions from any source were solicited or obtained. The 
building moved forward to completion without embarrass- 
ment, or casualty. On "opening day" every room had 
been bespoken and was occupied. The commodious 
chapel was thronged with faculty, students and their 
friends. 

At the first morning service this original hymn was 
sung, — 

O God to Thee in reverent praise 
A grateful song Thy children raise; 
Our filial hearts this tribute bring, 
Accept our humble offering. 

These walls evoked from wasting fires 
Replace the pile built by our sires. 
In Thee was placed the corner stone; 
The finished structure be Thine own. 



130 A REMINISCENT BOOK 

What goodly youth for many a year 
Thronged to the gates of learning here! 
And hundreds deem this sacred ground 
For here Thy jewelled cross they found. 

O Father, bless these halls today, 
Here dwell in guardian love alway, 
Defend, responsive to our vows, 
The glory of this latter house. 

Results of Co-Educational Period 

The co-educational period of thirty-five years ter- 
minated in 1880. Over 14,000 names were registered. 
Graduates in college preparatory and other courses were: 
young men, 680; young women, 367. Thirty-six states 
were represented and seventeen foreign countries. Many 
students of this period have risen to positions of prom- 
inence and responsibility, including many scores of prin- 
cipals, professors, and teachers; 120 clergymen of whom 
37 have become Doctors of Divinity or Philosophy, one 
a regent of the University of New York; over 100 lawyers 
of whom 25 have become judges; three have been United 
States Senators, and more than a score of others law- 
makers; 90 physicians and a goodly array of authors, 
bankers, merchants, business men, and artisans. 

Our grand roll contains many names also of women who 
have in various spheres reflected much honor upon their 
Alma Mater. 

Alumni Association 

In May, 1894, at St. Denis Hotel, New York, was or- 
ganized the Alumni Association of former teachers and 
students of the Fort Edward Institute. In the sixteen 



LATER DAYS AT FORT EDWARD 131 

reunions following, all in New York, except those held in 
1900 and 1905 at Fort Edward, there have been present 
generally from one hundred to one hundred and fifty or 
more. Dr. and Mrs. Joseph E. King have been made 
guests of honor at the banquets, and have been present on 
each occasion. An informal reception held in the parlors 
of the hotel for two hours affords opportunity for greetings 
and reminiscences, and is a delightful feature of the occa- 
sion. 

The dinner follows, at which groups either from the 
same class, or of congenial and contemporary friends, are 
seated at the tables artistically decorated with flowers and 
favors, while music is in evidence. After the leisure enjoy- 
ment of delicacies provided, two hours or more of post- 
prandial addresses, class songs, are in order; the president 
acting as toastmaster. Dr. James M. Cooley, the "per- 
petual secretary," reads letters of greeting and regret from 
those who desire to be remembered as loyal members, but 
who are prevented by distance or for some other good 
reason from being present. 

While the toasts and extemporaneous speeches occupy 
about five minutes each, during which there are inter- 
ludes of music, an address is always expected of the sole 
and only President of the Institute, who is assured that 
he is exempt from "the time limit." 

The hour of closing is variable, but the last feature is 
the singing together, as in the old Institute dining hall 
reunions : 

"Together let us sweetly live 
Together let us die ; 
And each a starry crown receive 
And reign above the sky. " 



132 A REMINISCENT BOOK 

In recent years, recognizing and cooperating with the 
"New Departure," alumnae banquets were held at the 
closing of each June commencement at Fort Edward, 
or in its vicinity, at which those who had recently received 
diplomas were admitted to membership, distinguished by 
the scholastic cap and gown. These festive occasions 
have been greatly enjoyed, original songs and spicy litera- 
ture adding to the merriment of the hour. 

The New Departure 

In 1890, with the approval of the trustees, and the con- 
sent of the state educational powers at Albany, announce- 
ment was made that thenceforth the Institute would be 
conducted solely for young women. For over forty- 
three years I had been in charge of co-educational semina- 
ries. I appreciated the advantage of the system, and I 
had full knowledge of its defects. In New England and 
the East, co-educational schools were increasingly in 
disfavor. The young men, numerically five to four, 
had enjoyed the lion's share of my co-educational activ- 
ities — henceforth it should be my purpose and my pleas- 
ure to even up the record more generously for young 
women. I would devote the afternoon of my life to them. 

For this "new departure" the building was ideally 
adapted. Some rooms being made en suite, with addi- 
tional bath rooms, all was in readiness for a choice school 
family, which came and which continued to come from 
twenty-six of the states for a score of years. In our 
enrollment there frequently appeared the names of the 
children, and in a few instances the names of the grand- 
children, of our former students. 

Consenting at my urgent request to be made "Asso- 




" THE NEW DEPARTURE 



LATER DAYS AT FORT EDWARD 133 

date Principal," Mrs. King became an inspiring, influen- 
tial, and beneficent factor in developing and moulding 
the minds, manners, and characters of the young ladies. 

The Second Conflagration 

The elements were all propitious; the promise for 
coming years was notably encouraging; fine classes had 
developed and were organized, having each its motto, 
banner and class song; the faculty had proved themselves 
united as well as zealous, sympathetic and accomplished, 
and had the warm esteem of the students; the building 
had been put in fresh repair, the fine, spacious chapel 
newly decorated through the generosity of the alumni, 
the library increased by valuable additions and several 
new pianos, one of Steinway's best, had been installed. 

At the Sunday evening vesper service, all were present 
and in high health; the theme for the evening was "The 
Hebrew children — trial by fire." 

On Monday evening there was given in the three parlors 
an attractive and elaborate musicale by the students of 
music, instrumental and vocal, with accompaniments of 
stringed instruments; teachers, students and invited 
guests making a most appreciative audience. In two 
more days the school family was to disperse for the Easter 
recess. 

At 6.30 a. m. Tuesday, March 15, 1910, the Institute 
was in flames. The destructive fire had caught from an 
over-heated stove in the laundry, and the village fire 
department, being practically useless because of inability 
to get water, the paper mill being inaccessible because of 
locked gates on account of strike among employes, the 
building was doomed. As sudden as was the early call, 



134 A REMINISCENT BOOK 

the faculty, students and servants escaped, though many 
sacrificed in the flames valuable personal belongings. 

The Principal's house was saved, though badly damaged. 
The official records in a safe in the Principal's office on 
the first floor were saved. Through over-confidence in 
the costly water system of the village only a moderate 
insurance was carried, fortunatey enough to pay the 
long-standing debts of the Institute. 

At the Fifteenth Alumni Reunion held in New York 
City, Dr. King, in the traditional form, awarded diplomas 
to the class of 1910. 



CHAPTER XI 
OUTSIDE INTERESTS 

Round Lake Institute 

The three months' summer vacation gave leisure for 
activities in educational work elsewhere than at Fort 
Edward. 

A charter member of the Board of Trustees of Round 
Lake Association in 1875, I have for over forty years been 
identified with the educational work maintained there 
notably in summer assembly annually in July, and in late 
years with the high school superintendency, for which had 
been built an ample building, also modestly endowed. 

Originally a grove of tall pines on the margin of the 
pleasant lake where notable meetings were held, some of 
them of national, even international interest and impor- 
tance — there has developed a beautiful village of summer 
homes. 

Incidental Business Activities 

For nigh fifty years an agreeable variation from daily 
routine has been found in association with a group of 
sterling, and exceptionally intelligent business men, as a 
member of the executive committee of the Glens Falls 
Insurance Society, located but five miles distant, and 
reached by trolley in half an hour. The customary meet- 
ing for an hour or more on Friday afternoons has been a 
healthful and agreeable recreation, particularly when 
followed not infrequently by an hour of chess in the 



136 A REMINISCENT BOOK 

pleasant rooms of the Y. M. C. A., of which I have the 
honor to be a member. 

The presidency of the Fort Edward National Bank has 
for many years called for an hour or so of my time occa- 
sionally and agreeably, and the presidency of the Union 
Cemetery Association has once a year only made a demand 
on a part of a day. 

While president of the Institute and the treasurer of 
the Board of Trustees, it has been my somewhat strenu- 
ous duty to plan, arrange for, and collect all its revenues of 
every sort, and to pay all proper claims on its treasury; 
its notes have never been protested, and its checks have 
always been honored. The insurance money from the 
fire of 1910 was equal to the paying of its debts, including 
the loan of thirty thousand dollars incurred in the erection 
of the new buildings in 1880. 

University Convocations 

Of the forty-eight annual convocations held at Albany, 
the last in October, 1912, it has been my pleasure and 
profit to be present at all except the first, an interested 
listener always, and often a participant in the debates 
that followed the reading of the papers. 

In this half century, probably no one voice has been 
heard as frequently as mine, at these convocations. My 
aim has been, in my brief speeches, to contribute to the 
interest of the convocations with appreciative and per- 
tinent suggestions or friendly criticisms, with the invaria- 
ble rule to stop when I had shot my optimistic missile. 

In 1867, contemplating a visit to England and France, 
I had secured from Chancellor Pruyn a most imposing 
letter of introduction, containing the broad seal of the 





CHANGES WROUGHT BY THE FIRE OF 1910 



OUTSIDE INTERESTS 137 

University over his majestic signature, which I found of 
considerable value in Paris in opening to me the doors of 
institutions of learning. In 1872 I was both surprised 
and not a little edified by being called to the front on the 
evening of the convocation, and awarded the "degree of 
Doctor of Philosophy in recognition and appreciation of 
services as an educator. " 

In the receptions annually given by the Regents, at 
first at the Chancellor's house, afterwards in the ample 
rooms of the library, there was opportunity to make 
the acquaintance of many scores of professors and instruc- 
tors, also to meet the Governor of the state, and the 
Regents themselves, which was highly prized. The Gov- 
ernor, as ex-officio head of the educational department of 
the state, was usually present, and always approachable 
and affable. There I had delightful conversations with 
Governor Seymour and Governor Tilden. I was fortunate 
in finding myself on confidential terms with the Chan- 
cellor and the secretaries, four succeeding each other, 
and in later years with the Commissioner of Education, 
who is now, in a wide sense, the official representation of 
the Board — its jurist, its custodian, its spokesman, and 
its general-in-chief of affairs. 

In 1894, while the new state constitution was in process 
of being prepared for submisson to the people, I was 
requested by the Committee on Programs to write a 
paper on "The Rightful Place of the Regents in the 
New Constitution." This I did, maintaining that the 
University of New York, then existing by act of Legis- 
lature, should be entrenched in the constitution as a 
coordinate body with the Legislature, having its power 
enlarged so as to have the general custody and control 



138 A REMINISCENT BOOK 

of the common and high schools of the state as well as 
of its colleges and academies. My paper was adopted 
at the convocation by a unanimous vote, and later at 
the request of a committee of the Constitutional Con- 
vention, I appeared before them and expounded my 
views, answering their questions to the best of my ability. 
It was gratifying to find that the University of New 
York, after existing for one hundred and ten years by 
courtesy of the Legislature — its slender tenure sometimes 
being threatened by an irritable governor — at last was 
welcomed into a permanent organized relation to the 
Empire State, to whose development in higher education 
it had so manifestly and generously contributed. 

In the last two decades, New York state has been a 
recognized and honored leader in all educational lines. 
The Regents' offices at Albany are always accessible to 
the educators of the state; the officials are always cour- 
teous and helpful. 

In August of 1912, on the completion of the new and 
magnificent Educational Building at the capital city, at 
a cost of nearly four millions, the dedication was made a 
supreme, historic occasion. The Governor, Commis- 
sioner and Regents, all were present. The Chancellor, 
being Ambassador to England, had taken a recess from 
his diplomatic functions that he might contribute the 
lustre of his personal presence as presiding official during 
those historic days. The red gown, representing his 
Oxford degree, and his University hat, made him a con- 
spicuous figure on the platform. He announced the 
parts with dignity, and dismissed each speaker with a 
majestic bow of his head. 

At the reception, which Mrs. King and I attended. 



OUTSIDE INTERESTS 139 

many more than one thousand paid their respects to 
the conspicuously distinguished receiving line, headed 
by Governor John A. Dix and Chancellor Whitelaw Reid. 
(Now that the Ambassador has been so suddenly and 
sadly called hence, it is a special pleasure to me to remem- 
ber that I had the privilege of expressing to him my 
warm appreciation of his valuable services to his country- 
men. Referring to the princely hospitalities extended 
him and Mrs. Reid, I mentioned how I had been cheered 
by a visit of one whole hour with one of his predecessors, 
Charles Francis Adams.) 

At the dedication, heads or representatives of the col- 
leges of the state and of other states, as well as those of 
foreign lands, robed in scholastic gown and cap, marched 
in an impressive procession from the Commissioner's 
rooms out and around the vast edifice, with its imposing 
colunms, and entered the commodious and beautiful 
auditorium, where two thousand guests, admitted by 
card, awaited them. The ceremonials, dedication, and 
formal greetings from some hundred or more educational 
institutions occupied two entire days and evenings. 

The Commissioner, the Regents, and the accomplished 
administrative officials of the vast educational depart- 
ment of the state, now unified, occupy the entire first 
or main floor of this six hundred foot temple. Other 
floors provide for museum and library. 

At the request of President Shanklin, I represented 
Wesleyan University, and when announced, made the 
following response : 

"Mr. Chancellor, Mr. Commissioner, Ladies and Gen- 
tlemen: An alumnus since 1847 and for more than sixty 
years trustee, I have the honor to bring to you the cordial 



140 A REMINISCENT BOOK 

greeting and congratulations of my Alma Mater, Wesleyan 
University. Eighty-one years ago, being duly chartered, 
a president and faculty of four professors occupying two 
noble brownstone buildings, fronting a generous common 
and overlooking the Connecticut River, and with an 
endowment of forty thousands, the life of Wesleyan Uni- 
versity began. Today I bring to you the greeting of 
President William A. Shanklin and his faculty of thirty- 
nine professors and , instructors, from thirteen noble 
college buildings, eight chapter houses encircling the 
handsome campus valued at a million dollars, with an 
endowment of two and a half million dollars. 

"Of the living alumni, eight hundred have their resi- 
dences and their activities in the state of New York, and 
these heartily join in our congratulations. Sir, forty years 
ago one of your worthy predecessors, the princely Chan- 
cellor Pruyn, at the Convocation, conferred upon me the 
degree of Doctor of Philosophy in 'recognition of my 
educational work at Fort Edward Institute.' 

"The projectors of this magnificent building doubtless 
had far-reaching vision of its uplifting influence, but as 
an inspiration to other states and to coming generations 
we can well believe that they builded better than they 
knew." 

Incidentally, but inevitably, as well as justly, this 
grand Educational Building will be the monument to 
the memory of Commissioner Draper who not only secured 
the unification of the schools, academies, and colleges of 
the state, but devised, planned, and secured the erection 
of the Educational Building through his wise suggestions, 
and powerful personal influence with Regents, Legisla- 
ture, and Governor. 



OUTSIDE INTERESTS 141 

Brothers of '47: poem read at the fiftieth anni- 
versary OF CLASS OF '47 WESLEYAN UNIVERSITY 

Date "47" — just fifty years ago; 

The tides of time, how swift they ebb and flow; 

In clear perspective, wakened memory brings 

Our day of small, but of most precious things. 

Professors seven, but spare your fine disdain — 

Smith, Johnson, Holdich, Barrett, Bagnall, Lane 

All wise and worthy, and upon each head 

What radiant lustre the great Olin shed. 

Of books — three alcoves, but we read them through; 

Of apparatus, less, 'tis doubtless true; 

But it sufficed to dignify our class 

As first to freeze carbonic acid gas. 

With no elective tempting us to stray 

We traveled learning's rock-built Appian Way 

(Foot-note: For all around effective men 

You need the old curriculum maintain; 

On this exploit your long elective list 

And find a man behind your specialist !) 

Our college games as yet unorganized; 
What sports were ours, were mostly improvised. 
Long walks to take, to swim betimes or skate; 
Parry and thrust at cautious friendly rate; 
Enjoy a boxing bout, or, driven to bay, 
Chastise a ruffian in the national way; 
Athletics crude, with these advantages. 

We cut no classes, paid no doctor's fees. 

One class we slumped, our naughtiness confessing. 

The doctor gave us a most righteous dressing; 

Then granted grace, no room was there to doubt it, 

For the manly fact, we had not lied about it. 

In our souls' calendars, you're not surprised — 

Thenceforth was Stephen Olin duly canonized; 



142 A REMINISCENT BOOK 

Might they not dare the utmost heights of fame, 
Whose parchments bore that more than princely name? 

Four secret orders now their blazonry: 

Eclectic, Mystic, Psi U. and Chi Psi. 

For chapter house a hired room or two ; 

In touch so close a narrow space would do. 

These each evoked a manly rivalry, 

And planted friendships that can never die. 

When came our oratory exercises. 

The practice ours, the others got the prizes. 

The junior exhibition brought eclat, 

The band provided could not fail to draw. 

A play we launched, original and witty; 

The crowd was unresponsive — more's the pity; 

Perhaps our jokes were too refined and high 

To be apparent to the naked eye. 

Philo and Pietho Halls each had their forum, 
So thronged that they seldom lacked a quorum. 
Here met our champions in high debate 
Discussing questions of portentious weight. 
And gaining skill at once and reputation 
By solving all the problems of the nation. 
God-fearing men were we without pretence, 
With sturdy faith in His wise providence. 

Too soon arrived our day of graduation; 
Called to the front, each fires his brief oration. 
Then forth we go with high resolve to win 
The world before us — where should we begin.'* 
A vast new area on the western coast, 
Rich mines of gold a Croesus might not boast; 
And thrifty commerce challenging all eyes 
With promise of a swift and dazzling prize. 
A whole great people delving in the ground. 
By mercenary masters gagged and bound, 
This disreputable world we found. 



OUTSIDE INTERESTS 143 

The Senate had, indeed, no millionaire, 
The giants, Webster, Clay, Calhoun were there; 
But slumbering giants — they and all the rest, 
With freedom stiffling in each sordid breast. 
To deal in men was lawful merchandise, 
But few in state or church but had their price. 

Some lurid sparks of warning darted forth ; 
A great church had divided South and North. 
A hunted slave was deemed no pleasing sight, 
So railroads underground helped on his flight. 
Still pious patriots denounced or hissed 
The pestilential abolitionist; 
Even Massachusetts showed some hesitation 
To grant her Phillips scanty toleration. 
And truth to own, our college was so craven 
It made excuses for its Gilbert Haven. 
Such, then, the nation's baneful horoscope; 
So grossly carnal, so forlorn of hope. 
Behold today what miracle appears ! 
The grand renaissance of our fifty years: 
The nation purified, united, free; 
No bondsman's clanking chain from sea to sea. 
The states and stars have grown to forty-five, 
All colleges and schools expand and thrive. 
The press and science, rivals in the race; 
Invention triumphs over time and space; 
All churches and charities abound 
And missions girdle the green earth around; 
While arbitration wins its widening way, 
The dawning promise of millenium day. 

As humble factors, or by pen or voice. 

In this grand progress we may well rejoice. 

Date '97 our most memorial year — 

Our scattered class — the remnants reappear. 

Congratulations will become the day. 

I call our roll in couplet if I may. 



144 A REMINISCENT BOOK 

Andrews, alert and cultured, leads the van 

As teacher, preacher, bishop, gentleman. 

Our Brigham, humorist, with old things discontented, 

A new, unique religion hath invented. 

And keen-eyed Cole pursues his quiet way, 

Presto — Senator from California! 

And General Griswold, face suffused with smiles 

To aid a friend would walk a dozen miles. 

And Haight, the lawyer, keenly energetic, 

Woe to the opponent should he prove splenetic. 

And King to magnify his life's vocation. 

His pupils scattered throughout half the nation, 

Is drilling now his second generation; 

His badge of honor — and he seeks no greater — 

For fifty years trustee to Alma Mater. 

And Lee, long and lank, to every purpose true — 

But where he pinched me still is black and blue. 

Then legal Lippitt, loud-voiced and undaunted, 

A genuine hustler, capturing what he wanted. 

And strenuous Martin, grappling with the fates. 

Who wins and wears two full-orbed doctorates. 

Scholastic Robbins, revelling in his books. 

Who ne'er belied the Doctor that he looks. 

And serious Rogers, veteran of our ranks. 

How kind of him to tolerate our pranks! 

And polished Smith, our bachelor forlorn. 

No wife has he, alas, to "grind his corn." 

Severe Van Kirk with grave and sombre phiz — 

Too little mirth and too much kirk in his. 

And high-toned Wailes, with aspect of a prince, 

Of promise fair, we have not seen him since. 

The roll yet incomplete — why pause we here.^^ 
On memory's tablet other names appear: 
Nine of our comrades, passing on before, 
To Alma Mater call respond no more. 
Newton, devout and with far-looking eyes. 
Too soon went home to his congenial skies. 



OUTSIDE INTERESTS 145 

Dean, Colburn, Coolidge, each had steding merit, 

Unlike, but wanting neither force nor spirit. 

Morrow of jaunty and complacent look. 

How many shared his prosperous pocketbook! 

And Pilsbury, pious, practical and strong, 

As model "elder" will his fame be long. 

And churchly Townsend, pompous, but sincere. 

Who grew upon us as we came more near. 

Thy loyalty, O Judd, outranks us all. 

The proof, behold, yon grand memorial hall! 

The Alumni Record, too, was thy largess, 

Evolved from thy internal consciousness. 

Winchell's scheme of nature deep and broad. 

To compass evolution, yet leave room for God. 

These be our dead. We name them reverently. 
And give to each the tribute of a sigh. 
In mid-career or ere they reached life's noon, 
Were these our classmates called away so soon. 
They studied, strove, aspired, and not in vain; 
To us, some days and duties yet remain. 

The laws of normal life, well understood. 

Small margin leave for dozing desuetude. 

To abide in strength, oft must the bow be strung. 

Congenial labors keep the heart still yoimg. 

While we admire the glint of beaten gold; 

Who idly asks if it be young or old.? 

Nor few nor ill have been our auspicious years; 

No grander epoch in all time appears. 

What days or decades still our work demands, 
Bide we content, our times are in His hands. 
Happy if Heaven the crowning blessing gives. 
That we at once may cease to work and live. 
Mox morituri— brothers of *47— 
Hail and farewell, to meet, please God, in heaven. 



146 A REMINISCENT BOOK 

Eightieth Milestone 

fort edward, november 30, 1903 

This day in vivid colors re-appears 

The panorama of my fourscore years. 

My earliest memory is ecstatic joy 

When donning first the toggery of a boy, 

To the village school I pranced my eager way 

And found myself the hero of the day. 

Charmed with the teacher's winsome words and looks. 

From that time forth I was in love with books. 

That early passion proved no brief flirtation 

In all my years I've owned its fascination. 

Yet to "the parsonage," "the farm," "the store," 

Not less I owed than to all learning's lore. 

For these environments taught self-reliance, 

That welcomed toughest tasks with stout defiance; 

In these were set the pace; life's race began; 

The sturdy youth, precursor of the man, 

God-fearing, strenuous, alert and jolly. 

Without distrust, or doubt, or melancholy. 

From seventeen, my teaching function dates, 

Six winter schools within three distant states; 

These and "the hay fields" yielding ample wealth 

To assure alike my credit and my health. 

My "A. B." gained, came never a release 

Schoolmaster still, with broadening diocese. 

Till in these six and fifty following years, 

A roll of twice eight thousand names appears, — 

Each have I sought to stir with high desire 

For all best things to labor and aspire — 

In many climes, by deed, or voice, or pen, 

These my epistles known and read of men. 

For fertile fields to till and length of days 

Not all unfruitful, be to Heaven the praise! 

In vigorous health and glad in my vocation 

I greet my friends in loving salutation. 



OUTSIDE INTERESTS 147 

Birthday Lines 

AT SIXTEENTH ALUMNI BANQUET, 1912, "tHE REMINISCENT 
book" WAS SUGGESTED AND ASKED FOR 

So soon another milestone? eighty-eight — 

The shadows lengthen, ay, 'tis growing late. 

Our boyhood friends, we seek for them in vain, 

Of college classmates, only three remain. 

And yet still shines the sun! — To Heaven be praise 

For health, glad retrospect, and length of days! 

Ours, threescore years and more, the call divine 

To bid young souls "awake, arise and shine." 

The germs of truth and love our joy to give 

Three generations teaching how to live. 

Tho' scattered far from Arctic to Equator, 

Some thousands yet remember Alma Mater. 

By stress of fire his occupation gone 

Let gray beard Nestor tell of conflicts won. 

To memory tablets give a backward look 

And write and print a reminiscent book. 



CHAPTER XII 

MY EPOCHS 

At the eighteenth annual banquet of the Alumni Asso- 
ciation May 14, 1913, the substance of the following lines 
was rehearsed as my address: 

A pause today at milestone — 89 

To note what wondrous epoch hath been mine. 

The "Monroe Doctrine" broached in "23" 

Must share its anniversaries with me. 

Big brother Uncle Sam warns old world Powers 

They're not to colonize this continent of ours. 

Canal grand Erie then had just begun, 

Tomorrow grander Panama is done. 

Steam and electrics, harnessed in my day, 

With automobiles have the right of way. 

The aviator, fleet as shooting star. 

Not without peril, navigates the air. 

By these in turn it scarce can be debated 

Both time and distance are eliminated. 

The first steam rail I rode with fear and joy 

From Albany to Dorp, when but a boy. 

From land's end round the world now tidings dart, 

Electric lights in every town and mart. 

We talk and laugh with friends by telephone 

A thousand miles, and recognize their tone. 

Explorers bold have sought earth's farthest goal 
And set their banners up at either pole. 

Of growth in sciences and every art 
My wise decades have borne no meagre part; 
The school and college have abounded more 
Than in the best five hundred years before. 
This epoch earns its noblest reputation 
Dowering its girls with higher education, 

148 



MY EPOCHS 149 

Opened at length to women college doors, 
And wider, brighter tasks than doing chores. 
This new departure, wakening in my day, 
Newbury and Fort Edward helped to blaze the way. 

In mills and mines a myriad wheels are whirled; 
The harvests of our farms might feed the world; 
Our widening area goes from sea to sea; 
Our millions swell from nine to ninety-three; 
The nation's banner too keeps up to date, 
From twenty stars and states to forty-eight. 
A score of Presidents I might have seen, 
The hands, be sure, I've clasped of some thirteen. 

Our times brought labor-saving engines in. 
As mowers, reapers and the cotton gin. 
At length invention came to woman's aid 
And sewing, knitting, weaving engines made. 
Cheap print, cheap postage, bettered life by half. 
Who but admires our flattering photograph? 
Typewriting, moving-pictures, came together, 
And bureaus tell us what will be the weather. 
Clean sanitation, purer foods and air. 
All baleful germs impounded in their lair. 
Safe anesthetics and skilled surgeons' knife 
Some years must add to average human hfe. 

By war and purchase came new territory. 
Shall this be slave or free? Ah, tragic story! 
Conspiracy of silence long had hushed debate. 
The abolitionist all were taught to hate. 
The fratricidal strife Kansas began. 
No respite. North and South and man to man — 
Till Heaven bade the bloody war to cease. 
At Appomattox Grant to Lee said "Peace," 
And lo ! a miracle, for slavery was no more, 
The nation one henceforth, from shore to shore. 
The Monitor, well manned by Yankee lads. 
Set all the nations building ironclads; 
The war for Cuba blended blue and gray, 
Hence North and South shall brothers be alway. 



150 A REMINISCENT BOOK 

While raged the war, big brother's hands were tied, 

A bold attempt to colonize was tried. 

Empire set up by France in Mexico 

War ends, one single word suflBced, "Monroe." 

For alien legions made excuse to fly, 

Leaving doomed Maximilian to die. 

His Austrian bride, a maniac, survives 

To warn the world "the Monroe Doctrine" lives. 

With English-speaking peoples, thanks to God, 

For nine decades no blood has stained the sod. 

Napoleon I saw three years before 

His empire shriveled at the cannon's roar. 

Great Bismarck saw the German states united, 

France, too, as Grand Republic, was delighted; 

Italy, reborn, has found a fitting home 

And greets the world, right royally, from Rome. 

Vast Russia gave her serfs emancipation. 

And was acclaimed a noble. Christian nation, 

Later, her Czar in his ambitious plan 

To gobble states was baffled by Japan. 

With half a million each in grim array, 

Two angry monarchs, weary of the fray, 

Our doughty chief — in justice be it writ — ■ 

Seized them with friendly force and made them quit. 

The Nobel prize — and all the world accorded — 

To Roosevelt most rightly was awarded. 

The giant China yesterday awoke, 

Bought off, deposed the Manchus at a stroke. 

Fought out her revolution and today 

A new republic greets America. 

As churches multiplied, or plain or grand, 

In every town and hamlet in the land, 

While trade and missions went to every nation, 

Much has been hoped and preached of arbitration. 

To banish cruel war, earth's direst plague. 

Some forty nations gathered at the Hague, 

And Andrew Carnegie, our Christian millionaire. 

Has built a palace for its congress there. 



MY EPOCHS 151 

Results auspicious have indeed appeared. 

And pious hearts have been no little cheered. 

But wild revolt that perturbs Mexico 

Needs discipline. To Hague will bandits go? 

And Greeks and Bulgars vainly seek the Hague 

To bann the unspeakable Turk — their special plague. 

"Exceptions prove the rule," will it be sin 

If one grand war bring the millennium in? 

A world power now, and every nation's friend, 

America is rich, with surplus coin to lend. 

When three great Christian powers shall stand for peace 

All wars thenceforth at their command shall cease. 

New problems, "wealth and wages," are debated; 
"Unions" galore, by strikes accentuated, 
Yet church and school and patriot minds unite 
To solve these problems and to solve them right. 
My voice was heard in many lecture courses: 
Three hundred pulpits rang with my discourses; 
Yet more than all I've prized the call divine 
To bid young souls awake, arise and shine. 
A teacher's life of mingled cares and joys, 
Grand roll of many thousand girls and boys. 
In passing years to mark their gallant fight 
To win and rise has been a keen delight. 
The toilsome past glad retrospect beguiles, 
While hope looks forward bravely still and smiles. 

Presto — disastrous fire? — well, God knows best. 
His message tells me "take a needed rest." 
These ruins still with life and love are fraught. 
For here were high ideals lived and taught 
As in and out they passed. Ah — it was grand. 
Brave youths, upright and strong, fit to command; 
Fair girls, discreet, resourceful, winsome, wise. 
And apt for any worthy enterprise. 
"F. E. C. I." stamped on her smoldering portal 
May fade, her sacred assets can but be immortal ! 
The best persists, and oft as comes Thanksgiving 
Te Deums we sing — for life is worth the living. 



